


Limit Game

by cosmicruin



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-07-24 13:13:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7509754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicruin/pseuds/cosmicruin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first rule of pretending is convincing everyone you’re not—even at the expense of your true feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Limit Game

**Author's Note:**

> Where to begin.
> 
> I told myself I’d join the_EXORDIUM if I found a plot. I was confident I wouldn’t. Then the plot bunny for this wandered into my backyard and begged for attention. I caved.
> 
> Lesson: build a resistance against cute plot bunnies. They cause stress-induced meltdowns.
> 
> Regardless, I would like to thank the magnanimous A, for being encouraging when I started this journey and listened to me ramble; to Ally, for helping me smooth out some kinks and listening to my complaints; to Q, my pet dog, for always knocking on the door of my work station to remind me I need to eat and take breaks when I'm too immersed in writing.
> 
> Thank you to the mods, as well, for their patience and understanding of my circumstances during the process.
> 
> And thank _you_ , for giving this a chance, should you decide to read and stick until the end. This might not be the most well-written fic or the most creative, but if it helped you in some way or cheered you up, that would already make me so happy. ♡
> 
> [ **Fair warning:** this fic will mention fire situations, hints of past toxic relationship, and possibly/mildly disturbing imagery involving dead bodies. If any or all squick you, please proceed with great caution. At the same time, I promise they're not as scary as it seems.]

“When is your next day off?”

Jongin stared at his docked iPhone perched on the counter. He had it on speaker mode so he could multitask, welcoming any and all distractions that could fill up the silence of the room. He considered coming up with an excuse of not taking a day-off this week, but a mother’s intuition was scarily accurate.

“Friday.”

“Wonderful.” His mother’s voice was suddenly filled with the familiar glee Jongin learned to associate when she was scheming something. He had a suspicion of where the conversation was headed; but every single time, Jongin hoped it would turn out different.

“Do you remember Mrs. Na from our old neighborhood in Suncheon? We bumped into each other in the supermarket a few days ago—I never knew they’d also moved to Seoul. She has a daughter your age. We’ve agreed to set you up on a date.”

Jongin closed his eyes and sighed. So much for keeping his hopes up.

“ _Mom—_ ” He dragged out the syllables into a whine.

“Mrs. Na suggested it. I thought it wouldn’t hurt to go on one date,” Mrs. Kim continued, as if she didn’t hear anything, her tone flippant. “She showed me a picture of her daughter—what a lovely girl she’s grown up to be! You’ll like her, I think.”

“Mom, I don’t think what she looks like or not is the problem,” Jongin said, brows furrowing.

“What’s the problem, then?” Disappointment stained Mrs. Kim’s voice. Jongin told himself to ignore it, along with the sprinkle of guilt pinching his insides. “Are you seeing someone right now?”

“No, but—”

“So going on a blind date shouldn’t be a problem, yes?” Mrs. Kim sounded chipper again. “If it doesn’t work out, I promise I won’t ask you to go on a second date. You know I always keep my word, right? Please, son?”

Jongin could list so many reasons why he refused to go, but—

“…Fine. I’ll go on one date,” he acquiesced, after a moment’s silence. Already he could taste the regret from his response. He scolded himself for harboring a giant weak spot for his mother, but at this point, agreeing was better than the constant pestering.

“Thank you, Jongin. I knew you wouldn’t let me down.”

He could hear his mother smile behind the phone. His heart melted at the praise, but he still wanted to slap himself for his weakened resolve.

They exchanged goodbyes and the lapse of silence was broken by the intro of an R&B song on his playlist. Jongin snapped on a fresh pair of gloves and stepped into a pair of rubber boots. He stared at the prone figure of a man in his mid-forties laid out on the metal bed. He checked the tag around the wrist to confirm he had the right body.

“Aren’t you lucky, Mr. Cho?” Jongin asked. “You never have to worry about being nagged at to go on blind dates.”

G.Soul answered him with a croon about being loved again in the background.

Jongin nodded, as if Mr. Cho had answered him himself, and then wheeled the steel bed into the sanitation area.

“I hope you don’t mind R&B and dance tracks while we spend the next few hours together.”

 

 

☆彡

 

 

Jongin’s cheeks were hurting.

He should’ve perfected the art of smiling by now, but his facial muscles began protesting from being stretched for more than five minutes at short intervals. He supposed he could relax, but after past blind dates mistook his non-smiling face as annoyance, boredom, or indifference, he’d spent hours in front of the mirror practicing the look of amicability.

Across of him sat Miyoung, Mrs. Na’s daughter: two years younger, boasted a degree from Seoul National University, and looking for a boyfriend. Her genial personality and the easy way they conversed put Jongin at ease—a far cry from the last date he had gone to—but it still missed the spark he was both looking and waiting for that incited a desire for more.

When she volunteered information about working as a museum curator, however, Jongin foresaw the disaster waiting to unravel.

“My job isn’t the most exciting,” Jongin said, in an attempt at stalling the inevitable.

“Shall I take a guess?” Miyoung asked, eyes twinkling in excitement.

Jongin gave a noncommittal shrug.

Miyoung took it as an affirmative. “Do you model? You might not have the required height for runways, but your face alone can land you a few fashion spreads.”

Jongin prayed his chuckle didn’t sound too forced or give away his nervousness.

“I’m not a model, but you’re not the first person who’s told me that.”

“What’s wrong with Seoul’s casting agents? I would’ve casted you the moment I saw you in the streets,” Miyoung said. “Are you an actor in the making? You have the aura of one. No? What about…”

He commended Miyoung’s patience in listing jobs she thought he might have. He could tell she was a nice, sweet girl, and he felt sorry for shattering her hopes and dreams if she ever considered him an eligible candidate for a boyfriend; but she deserved the truth, no matter how unconventional.

“I’m an embalmer.”

Jongin fidgeted in his seat and fumbled with the collar of his button-down shirt at the gradual widening of Miyoung’s eyes.

“You’re kidding, right?” she croaked out, disbelief coloring her voice.

“You know the funeral home in Seoul ASAN Medical Center? I’m one of the four employed embalmers working there.”

Miyoung pressed her lips together. Maybe she’d express outrage of being cheated on this date. Maybe she’d walk out on him in her shock and denial of having been set up with somebody who worked on dead people. Both had happened to Jongin before. They weren’t pleasant memories, so he braced himself for the worst.

“That’s quite the interesting career choice,” Miyoung spoke, breaking the tense silence, though she lacked her usual confidence.

Not the kind of reaction Jongin expected, but definitely one of the best he’d received in a long time.

The once natural flow of conversation turned clipped and stilted after the big reveal. Jongin took mercy on them both and ended the date early. Before parting ways outside the café, he assured Miyoung he wouldn’t take offense if she didn’t want a second date.

The visible relief on her face wounded his pride a little.

Jongin texted his mom of what happened and breathed out a big, defeated sigh while walking without aim. The chance of him finding someone who didn’t belittle or freaked out over his profession took a considerable nosedive. He understood not everyone met an embalmer every day, much less open to the idea of dating one, but was there really no one in the world who would look past it?

Dwelling on the matter deepened his misery further, so he phoned Sehun and asked him to get drunk.

“Kim Jongin the one-date wonder strikes again,” Sehun said in form of greeting a few hours later, amusement lacing his words.

Jongin slapped him on the arm in retaliation. “Don’t make me regret calling you here,” he threatened, sans heat.

“But who else will dry your tears and take you to the _noraebang_ so you could belt out your woes to _All By Myself_?” Sehun asked, slipping into the stool next to his and waved the bartender over.

“What the hell, I don’t even sing in English.”

“Celine Dion would be _so_ proud of you if she heard your rendition.”

The mischievous glint in Sehun’s eyes heavily implied of blackmail material he must have stashed somewhere in his archives he wasn’t aware of. Jongin was curious but reined it in—he knew if it wasn’t the highest level of embarrassing, it was guaranteed beyond outrageous. He’d rather spare himself from the mortification.

He did rely on Sehun a lot, all things considered. Fighting over the last croquette in the cafeteria during middle school wasn’t the most ideal first meeting, but their paths had started intertwining more at the discovery of common interests and late-night gaming on Saturdays. Even with the stark difference in their personalities, their friendship lasting a decade spoke volumes.

“Why do you participate in these blind dates when you know they don’t end well? What kind of masochist are you?” Sehun commented, after Jongin had recounted what transpired earlier. “Tell your mom it will never work out because your dates hightail the hell out of there the moment you tell them your job.”

“I have. I did. Just—my mom’s ever the optimist and never stopped believing there’s someone out there who’ll accept everything about me without fear. I’m not sure I think the same anymore.” Jongin ran a hand through his hair and ruffled it in frustration.

“I hate to say this, but you’d be hard-pressed to find someone who won’t be daunted by the mere mention of ‘embalmer.’” Sehun drew patterns on the condensation of his glass. “Your best shot would be a fake lover. You save yourself the torture of sitting through more blind dates, and your mom will get off your case. Two birds with one stone.”

Jongin snorted. “Brilliant idea, except where am I going to find someone to pose as my fake lover? She knows all of my friends, and I’m not keen on the idea of faking it with total strangers.”

“I’d volunteer, but your mom will see right through it,” Sehun said. “And I just can’t, period.”

“Why would I want to be boyfriends with you, even if it’s pretend? Gross.” Jongin scrunched up his face in mock disgust.

Sehun rolled his eyes but played along. “Please. We both know why we can never be boyfriends is because I’m too fabulous for your plebian ass.”

“I hope you choke on your scotch.”

Sehun _did_ choke on his scotch not long after Jongin made the wish.

Jongin laughed and patted a coughing Sehun on the back.

 

 

☆彡

 

 

Sehun’s suggestion stuck to him with the strength of industrial grade glue. It echoed in the corridors of his mind every time couples passed by him on the way to commute, their hands clasped and whispering into each other’s ears. It echoed louder when his playlist taunted him with songs rejoicing the blooming of new relationships and the unrivaled happiness of falling for someone who liked them back, too.

It echoed the loudest when his sisters bombarded him with questions about why his latest blind date didn’t work out on his next day off. He’d visited his family’s apartment with the intention of spending time with Monggu, not dragged to sit between his sisters in the living room couch and forced to tell them an outcome they’d heard a hundred times before.

“So what if you’re an embalmer? How could a minor detail scare them off?” his older sister, Jungah, complained. She cradled his face in her hands, frowning in indignation on his behalf. “Do you want help in finding another blind date?”

“I’m fine, _noona_. I don’t mind being single.” Jongin patted her hands and smiled in assurance, hoping she’d drop the idea.

“One of my friends has a cousin they’re looking to set up with,” Junhee, his oldest sister, spoke up this time. “Would you like to—”

“I hear Monggu scratching at the door. Gotta take him on his walk now or he’ll do a number on it.”

“Mom took Monggu to the groomer’s yesterday, his nails have been trimmed—Jongin, come back here!”

The adrenalin spike granted Jongin the strength and energy to sweep an unsuspecting Monggu into his arms, kick off his slippers, and grab his shoes and the leash on the way out. He rushed to the elevator barefoot, frantically pressing the button and hoping his sisters wouldn’t follow him.

Breathing came easier when the heavy metal doors closed and the box descended.

“If only my apartment allowed pets, I’d have taken you in a long time ago so I wouldn’t have to endure this on every visit,” Jongin told Monggu, toeing on his shoes and hooking the leash onto the collar.

Monggu blinked at him and yawned.

Jongin loved visiting home and spending time with his family; he just couldn’t deal with their misplaced concern over his singlehood, which increased in frequency after his string of unsuccessful blind dates wasn’t showing signs of changing course.

At the same time, he couldn’t blame his mother for being envious of her friends as she told him stories of their sons his age involved in long-term relationships and happy marriages. He couldn’t blame his sisters for helping out in their mother’s agenda, sending him profiles of people they deemed good for or compatible with him and asking if he’d like a meeting. He understood their intentions, but the pressure was overwhelming as it was exhausting.

He’d voiced his dissatisfactions in the past. Shot down their offers with excuses of being busy and lack of interest; one time he just straight out told them he didn’t want to go. His mother had been upset, but she compromised by never forcing him to a second date if nothing came out of the first; hence, their current arrangement. It took away a considerable load off of Jongin’s shoulders, but it didn’t dampen his mother’s persistence and hopefulness.

Sehun’s suggestion nagged at him again.

Jongin distracted himself by taking in a lungful of air outside the apartment complex. Today’s clear blue sky, save for the single aircraft vapor trail streaked across it, and pleasant weather helped improved Jongin’s mood. Spending time with Monggu in the park further reinforced it, too.

They jogged on the path provided for said activity. The distant ring of bicycle bells and cheerful laughter punctuated the otherwise tranquil atmosphere. They passed by a skating rink filled with children taking lessons, and a bunch of grandmas attending their weekly _tai chi_ session in an open area covered with grass.

Jongin slowed his pace down, catching his breath and allowing his legs to rest. Monggu trotted a few paces ahead of him and sniffed at the pavement. Jongin steered Monggu toward the direction of an empty bench with a gentle tug of the leash.

He’d barely sat down before his grip loosened on the handle for a millisecond and Monggu barreled forward, barking at something he saw.

Jongin couldn’t curl his fingers around the leash fast enough, slipping from his hold like water. He shot up and chased Monggu, almost crashing into a few people in his haste to catch up.

Monggu barked a few times, neither stopping nor looking back despite the numerous calls of his name. Jongin wondered what could’ve excited him so bad he developed tunnel vision.

A moving gray mass ahead entered Jongin’s line of sight. Cooing. Flapping wings.

Pigeons.

Jongin swallowed a wry smile and shook his head.

Monggu hurtled toward the flock of pigeons, standing on his hind legs and leaping in mid-air to reach the escaping birds. The pigeons took off in different directions.

Jongin reclaimed the handle in case Monggu bolted again. “Monggu, behave,” he ordered, in his most serious voice.

Monggu barked some more and obeyed. It lasted five seconds before he noticed something else and approached, leash stretching further to his right.

Ten steps away was a young man in a navy blue sleeveless shirt and black sweatpants clinging onto a lamppost. He was about a head smaller than Jongin, eyes screwed shut and arms wrapped tight around the structure.

Concerned, Jongin approached the man with measured, cautious steps and stopped within respectable distance.

“Hi, is everything okay?”

One eye slowly opened, followed by the other. He inspected his surroundings and looked at a point beyond Jongin’s shoulder. The fear scrawled on his face transformed into relief.

“Oh, thank god they’re gone,” he said. Jongin’s confusion must’ve shown on his face because he clarified, “The pigeons. I’m glad they’re gone.” His eyes landed on Monggu, a slow smile spreading on his face. “Is he your dog? He did me a favor by chasing them away. I can continue jogging in peace now.”

Jongin couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Monggu became an accidental hero for this man, who was scared of pigeons?

“He loves terrorizing pigeons when he sees them for reasons beyond me. Glad to have helped, though,” Jongin said, with a smile of his own.

Monggu, who had been sitting by the side listening to their conversation, perked up when the man approached. He stood up, tail wagging in broad strokes like a lazy wave in greeting.

Now closer, the man knelt on one knee and looked up at Jongin. “May I…?” He waved his hand in a vague gesture of asking permission.

Monggu decided for himself by sniffing at the man’s outstretched hand a few times and licking it.

“Monggu, you can’t just lick people’s hands without permission,” Jongin chastised—or tried to, since the words came out weak as he watched Monggu’s friendly interaction with he man.

“It’s okay. He did save me a load of stress from the pigeons.” The man’s eyes crinkled as his smile widened, showing his gums.

Jongin seldom saw this sort of smile on anyone, but he thought it looked attractive on him—

Where the hell did that thought come from?

The man rose to his feet after giving Monggu a few more pats. “How can I repay you?”

Stunned, Jongin waved his hands in front of him in polite refusal. “Oh, no, you don’t have to.”

“I insist.” The man sounded the right kind of persuasive and confident. “You don’t know how big of a help Monggu has been to me, so I insist on repaying you both, if you’ll let me?” In his eyes sparked hope and a silent expectation he wouldn’t be turned down.

On the walk back home, Jongin held Monggu’s leash in one hand, the other clutched tight around his phone containing a new contact registered under the name Kim Minseok.

 

 

☆彡

 

 

Jongin was never a phone person.

He used it for work and leisure purposes like a million others on the planet, but take away those advantages and he would still function fine. He disliked the hassle of stressing over its whereabouts if he misplaced it or keeping tabs on the battery life if it wasn’t fully charged. Sometimes, he just completely forgot he owned one but would receive complaints from family and friends for being unreachable.

Though, sometimes, he had moments he remembered of its existence and would plug it in right away; like today, when his phone died close to the end of his graveyard shift. His phone beeped for unread messages after coming back to life. Curiosity piqued at the most recent message in his inbox.

 **Kim Minseok**  
6:45 AM  
_Hi, I hope you remember me?_  
_I’m the guy your pet, Monggu, saved from the pigeons two weeks ago._  
_I said I’d return the favor, so I was hoping to invite you for coffee today?_  
_But only if you’re free!_  
_I’d love to see Monggu again~^^_

Jongin replied, apologizing for responding two hours late and suggested meeting up in a pet-friendly café so he could take Monggu with him.

He received a positive response in three minutes. Jongin sent the address and discussed a time for their meeting.

A portion of Jongin’s exhaustion vanished now that he had something to look forward to today. He threw himself on his bed, smothering his face into the pillow and sighing at the coolness of the sheets. His body had long become accustomed working at ungodly hours, whether by shift or the sudden calling in for extra hands, but he also had days his eyes would give in on him and demand a nap, even at the risk of ruining his already-whacked circadian rhythm.

Well-rested and feeling more human hours later, Jongin took a thorough shower using his best-smelling body wash. He considered himself the least vain person on the planet, but he took whiffs of his clean skin after rinsing and toweling and smiled in approval. He rummaged his closet for a fresh set of clothes and smelled each article, satisfied with the common scent of fabric conditioner among them.

He picked up Monggu from his family’s apartment. He didn’t stay long so he could avoid his mother’s unsubtle hinting of having found another blind date for him.

Minseok was already seated in a corner booth when they arrived. The café wasn’t as crowded during brunch hours compared to other parts of the day. Apart from an old man enjoying his coffee with a paperback and a golden retriever curled up sleeping by his feet, they had the place to themselves.

An employee greeted them and left a basket of treats. Monggu’s eyes shone at the sight of it.

“Hey, Monggu.” Minseok slipped out of his seat so he could move closer. Monggu stood up at the call of his name, tail making wide sweeping motions behind him. He petted Monggu’s chest with gentle affection. “Thanks again for saving me from those pigeons.”

Monggu rested a paw on his knee. Minseok looked pleased and offered him a treat.

Jongin couldn’t believe how quick Monggu warmed up to somebody he’d only seen twice. Junhee’s husband took half a year before Monggu willingly paid him any attention, and he was an even more frequent presence in the family apartment.

“It’s my first time here. Are you a regular?” Minseok asked, casual but polite.

Jongin nodded. “It’s one of the few places that allow pets inside the establishment, as long as you’re a responsible owner.”

Minseok glanced at the giant board above the counter. The food and drink items were separated and listed using colored chalk, with drawings of sandwiches and coffee cups filling up the excess space. “Have you eaten? Is there anything you want? I’ll buy—please, I insist.”

Jongin didn’t hesitate in voicing what he wanted. “Anything not coffee is fine with me.”

“A non-coffee drinker, huh?” Minseok said in a light, teasing way and not like Jongin had declared something blasphemous. “I’ll give it my best shot, then.”

“What do you think he’ll get?” Jongin asked Monggu, who was busy grooming himself beside his chair. The café served a modest amount of non-caffeinated beverages, and though he liked switching up his choices, he’d settled for a favorite from the second visit onward.

Minseok returned with a tall cup of iced mint choco for him.

Jongin’s eyebrows shot up, impressed. He chanced a glance at Minseok, whose expectant face couldn’t conceal the nervousness in his smile.

“How did you know I liked this? Did the staff tip you off?” Jongin asked in genuine curiosity.

“The part-timer recommended their bestsellers. This sounded the most appealing,” Minseok admitted, blowing the steam away from his own cup of black coffee. “I know we kind of did this out of order by swapping contacts before establishing anything resembling a friendship, so…” He straightened up in his chair and bowed to Jongin. “Hello, my name is Kim Minseok. I’m twenty-eight years old.”

“No way,” Jongin gasped out the words before he could stop himself. He clapped a hand over his mouth, but Minseok only seemed amused. “I mean—I’m sorry, it’s just… you don’t look your age. I thought you were younger.”

Minseok chuckled. “I do hear that often.”

“I’m Kim Jongin; twenty-four years old. Since you’re older, how shall I address you? Is calling you ‘Minseok- _ssi_ ’ all right?”

“That sounds too formal and distant. ‘ _Hyung_ ’ is fine.”

They tried for conversation a few times, but it never failed segueing into silence after one or two answers. Jongin had attended livelier blind dates than this, though he deemed making comparisons unfair to Minseok. For one thing, this wasn’t a blind date; and second of all, he wasn’t contributing anything to improve their situation.

Only Monggu could pull out more than five words from them by pawing at their legs if he wanted attention or treats. Monggu showed a glaring preference for Minseok, too, as he transferred next to his seat for easier access to his hand. Jongin would’ve thought of this as unfair on usual occasions, but he found he didn’t mind watching Monggu drawing out smiles from Minseok—

Jongin should really get a grip on himself.

With a vigorous shake of his head, he looked at Monggu from the side of the table and dipped his hand into the basket—

“Monggu, come here.”

—and startled when his fingers brushed against Minseok’s.

“Oh—!”

“I-I didn’t mean to—!”

They mirrored each other’s look of surprise and burst out laughing.

Minseok retracted his hand first. “I’m sorry; I’m not really the talkative type around people I’ve only known for a short time. I won’t blame you for the boredom you’re feeling.”

Jongin shook his head. “I’m not much of a talker myself. I guess that makes us even?”

“Maybe we won’t be as stiff next time,” Minseok said, smiling kindly.

 _Next time._ Merely two words but carried the implication of another meeting, if Jongin wanted it. Merely two words, yet it sounded very much like a promise.

Jongin didn’t even need to think twice about his answer.

 

 

☆彡

 

 

The developed routine of café and park meet-ups helped them transition from awkward acquaintances to fairly friendly. Most of these happened if their day-offs coincided, but they also met after work, time permitting.

Monggu always participated in these meet-ups; by now, he’d taken an incredible liking to Minseok, bounding toward him the moment he came into sight and forcing Jongin to keep up. Jongin supposed it wasn’t unwarranted—Minseok brought him new toys or treats each time, and lavished the same amount of affection he himself would give Monggu.

So it surprised him when Minseok handed him a silver flask one morning. He blinked at it a few times before accepting it with two hands and a smidgen of confusion.

“What’s this for?”

“You look extra cold in the mornings, so I thought I might bring you something to help you warm up,” Minseok said.

Jongin proved his point by shivering from the sudden stab of cold draft. Spring was ending in a few weeks, but it hadn’t relented in its onslaught of cool mornings. His long-sleeved shirts and sweaters usually sufficed, but the chill from this morning’s weather seemed intent on penetrating through the material of his clothes.

He unscrewed the lid, intrigued. A delightful aroma caressed his nose. At the first tentative sip, sweetness burst on his tongue, traces of bitterness following close behind. Both flavors balanced each other out instead of clashing and created a decadent harmony.

“Hot chocolate?” he asked, beaming. He took a bigger sip now, savoring its richness and smacking his lips together in a show of appreciation. “This tastes _so_ good.”

Minseok looked thrilled. “I’m not an expert in brewing chocolate since I’m more used to coffee; so your feedback is appreciated.”

Jongin returned the favor by buying breakfast bagels from a deli shop he frequented. He still preferred the traditional rice, but sandwiches were a convenient substitute since they saved him the hassle of cooking. He lacked the basic culinary skills (except for boiling water for his tea or _ramyun_ ), and his taste buds had more or less roped him into trouble for strange combinations that forced him to scrap entire meals.

Minseok enjoyed the bagels, encouraging Jongin into buying different kinds if they met in the mornings. Breakfasts were usually bleak affairs for him, especially after graveyard shifts, but watching Minseok eat was inspiring in itself.

“Do you work in a hospital?” Minseok asked one day, after they’d settled on a bench and Monggu was kept busy with his favorite rubber ball. “You buy bagels from the same deli, and the location is awfully close to Seoul ASAN.”

Jongin suspected he must’ve seen the printed address on the bag. “You could say that,” he said, slowly.

“So you’re a nurse? Or are you a doctor?”

Jongin wanted to hide from Minseok’s inquisitive stare. Or have the ground crack open and swallow him whole. He wasn’t avoiding the topic on purpose; it was simply never brought up.

Regardless, he couldn’t keep it a secret forever.

“If you mean a doctor who preserves corpses, then sure.”

The distant, merry giggles from a group of children occupied the ensuing silence.

Jongin watched Minseok’s face light up in realization, followed by the gradual enlargement of his eyes. A hundred possible outcomes played in his mind, the familiar pattern showing itself once again—

“You’re the first embalmer I’ve met in my life,” Minseok said, awe in his voice, “but I’m proud to say I know one, now.”

No hidden contempt or disgust in his eyes. No mockery in his words. This was beyond the standard fare of expected results Jongin received. He was at a loss on how to take this, it almost made him shy.

“I’m curious—do you work alone?”

“Yes, but I don’t mind. Music keeps me company. It’s especially handy if I know I’ll take a while with a job. The director doesn’t mind as long as I do my work.”

Minseok studied him for a moment. “I’m about to say something terribly cliché right now.” His face was between mischievous and apologetic. “You don’t look like the type who’d work as an embalmer.”

Jongin snorted, though his mouth curved upward. “That’s cliché, all right. What did you think I was?”

“A post-grad student who pulls too many all-nighters and doesn’t know what he’s doing with his life.”

Jongin threw his head back in amused laughter. “I’ve been mistaken for all sorts of things: actor, model, idol, _chaebol_ , writer; literary critic if I tell them I like reading, choreographer if they knew my passion for dancing, veterinarian if I mention my love for dogs. Some wild guesses included stripper and hooker. Apparently, what you do for a living should be directly proportional to your looks or interests.”

“You can be a model. You have an attractive face,” Minseok said.

Jongin had taken a large gulp of hot chocolate, but he knew it wasn’t the source of the warmth circling in his chest.

“Too bad I’m not about the modeling life.”

“What’s it like working as an embalmer?”

“Like any other job, but not the kind just anyone welcomes with open arms.” Jongin traced the snowflake details on the flask with a finger. “There’s a common misconception about embalmers having an inclination for the morbid or carry a bleak outlook in life. Those aren’t true for me. I’m plenty happy with my job. It allows me to make the deceased’s loved ones happy, even for a brief moment during their time of grief. But not everyone is aware of that—it’s like they can’t move past the label and automatically associate it with the sordid details.”

Flashes of unpleasant memories rushed to the surface. Memories in which people avoided, ridiculed, or looked down on him once they caught wind of his career. The slightest remembrance soured Jongin’s mood.

Minseok must’ve sensed the shift because he gave him two consoling pats on the back. “Your life, your shots. Some people you’ve met might not be as understanding as you want them to be; but the ones who do make up for it and matter more.”

He didn’t look at him with pitiful eyes, and his words rang with sincerity. For this, Jongin was grateful.

Jongin answered Minseok’s questions about the embalming process and everything related the best he could. He hadn’t experienced this sense of ease and freedom in a long time. Worrying or fearing about grossing out the individual had become so habitual that Minseok’s genuine interest and cool acceptance of his explanations seemed like a foreign concept but not unwelcome. He reveled in it, taking this opportunity of letting loose without the burden of molding himself to anyone’s standards.

The curious side of him raised several questions, however.

“How come you’re not nauseated by this? Does nothing faze you?” Jongin asked.

Minseok hummed a noncommittal sound. “I built up my cast-iron stomach with tons of adjusting, but not without a few meals heaved out. Seeing my share of dead bodies on duty might or might not have helped, too.”

“Sounds tough.” Jongin wrinkled his nose in sympathy. Blinked. “Wait a minute—what sort of work requires you to deal with dead bodies? Are you also an embalmer but not telling me? A coroner? A medic? C’mon, tell me!” He tugged at Minseok’s shirt sleeve.

Minseok’s gaze dropped to his hand then returned to his face. “Do we have the kind of close relationship where you can freely tug at my clothes, Jongin-ssi?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.

Jongin released the shirt immediately like he’d been scalded. “I-I’m sorry, hyung! I didn’t mean to!”

His panic lasted five more seconds before a teasing smile broke out on Minseok’s face.

“ _Hyung!_ ” he whined, realizing he’d been played.

“You don’t seem to take teasing too well, Jongin-ssi.” Minseok’s tone was as playful as the sideways glance he sent his way.

The last of Jongin’s annoyance evaporated, replaced by a swoop in his stomach and a flurry of pleasant sensations spreading through his body.

If this wasn’t the spark he’d been waiting or looking for, either way, he was still screwed.

 

 

☆彡

 

 

Impeccable timing or a honed skill in evasion: whichever it was, Jongin couldn’t squeeze out any answers from Minseok regarding his job. Despite his best efforts in fishing information, Minseok would always escape Jongin’s metaphorical clutches every time he achieved progress.

“Do you think he’s a serial killer? What else could make him stand looking at corpses without hurling?” Jongin asked the newly-embalmed Mrs. Cha, who lay in her expensive casket beside him. He was finalizing an embalming report while waiting for the funeral director to arrive. His brows furrowed; lower lip jutted out in contemplation. “Maybe he’s ashamed or embarrassed of his job?”

Bruno Mars wailed to him in reply about seeing his baby dance with another man.

“He doesn’t seem the type who isn’t proud of his job,” Jongin muttered to himself. He scanned the report’s contents and shook his head from the mounting frustration. “Why is he so mysterious? Why can’t he just tell me?”

He almost missed the doors creaking open, the sound concealed by the song’s emotional climax.

“Are you talking to yourself again?”

Jongin spun his chair around, grinning. “No, I am in deep conversation with Mrs. Cha and you’re interrupting.”

A man in his late twenties crossed the room, the hint of a smile his reply to Jongin’s joke. He walked back and forth along the length of the casket, eyes roaming everywhere as he took in every detail. Jongin watched him in silence, anticipating his reaction.

The man broke out into a full smile emphasizing the youthfulness of his face. “You’ve done a good job. Mrs. Cha’s family will be happy with the result.”

Jongin breathed easier now. “Thanks, Jinki-hyung—I mean, Director.”

Jinki brushed off his mistake with a flippant wave of his hand. “What did I say about formalities when it’s just the two of us?” he reminded, still smiling.

Lee Jinki wasn’t exactly a stranger to Jongin, having shared fate from the day they’d met in Taemin’s house in his first year of high school. Jongin had needed help with his English _hagwon_ coursework, but Taemin and Sehun were about as helpful as their outdated textbooks. Jinki had taken a glimpse at Jongin’s worksheets on his way to the kitchen and volunteered tackling each item together.

Jongin never imagined a few English tutorials would eventually lead him to his current career choice.

“Sorry; ingrained work ethic makes it hard to forget.” Jongin studied his face, noting the bags beneath his eyes and the barely-concealed weariness. “You look tired. Have you slept yet?”

On cue, Jinki yawned. “I napped on the way here from Seoul Memorial Park. Does that count?”

Jinki’s responsibilities as a funeral director consumed plenty of his waking and supposed sleeping hours. Jongin would know; Taemin complained about not seeing Jinki for more than a few hours sometimes if they both happened to be home. As someone he treated like the older brother he never had, Jongin’s concern for him was justified.

“Hyung, you should get some sleep when you can. Don’t run yourself ragged arranging funerals.”

“Did Taemin order you to tell me that?” Jinki asked lightly. Chuckling, he added, “That’s just like my little brother, isn’t it? Even if he’s miles away, he still finds ways to scold me.”

“Sehun and I will join on the scolding if you don’t listen, you know,” Jongin joked, albeit with an undercurrent of seriousness.

Two men arrived to transfer the casket into one of the viewing rooms. Jinki left with them to ensure nothing went wrong.

The time on the wall clock told Jongin his shift was over. He cleaned up and disposed of his cap, paper gown, and shoe covers. He clocked out and stopped by the deli shop for his favorite breakfast bagel. Too bad he was walking Monggu by himself today. He would’ve wanted Minseok to join them, but he mentioned in advance he would be on shift today.

The mouthwatering scent of baked goods in the deli assailed his senses, worsening his hunger pangs. The deli owner—a grandma in her sixties with the energy level of a teenager—was rattling off orders to the part-timers from her post by the counter. She hopped off the stool to pack the usual bagel for him, together with new sandwiches she’d add to the menu soon (“On the house for my favorite customer,” was her sole reason when she refused Jongin’s payment).

The ceiling-mounted television grabbed Jongin’s attention. On screen was the morning news; currently, it talked about an old, four-storey commercial building catching on fire in the fringes of Gangnam at the brink of dawn. The fire was put out before it could spread to its neighboring buildings. No casualties except for damaged goods.

A montage was shown while the news was reported: billows of smoke rising from the burning building, firefighters hosing it down, a crowd gathered to the side watching. The reporter interviewed several eyewitnesses for their accounts on how the fire started.

The segment reverted to real-time footage, showing the reporter on site. “Beside me is one of the firefighters who responded to the emergency. What do you think is the cause of the fire?”

“The exact cause is yet to be determined, but we deduced it started from the faulty electrical wiring,” none other than Kim Minseok answered.

Jongin’s jaw dropped open.

And if his jaw could drop all the way to the floor, it would’ve already from the additional information attached below Minseok’s full name on the screen:

_Captain, Gangnam Fire Station, 4th Fire Department._

Sweat rolled down the sides of Minseok’s face, soot staining different parts of his yellow turnout gear. He stood upright and held a protective mask by his hip. He answered the reporter’s inquiries with the knowledge and cool ingrained into a seasoned firefighter.

The grandma handed over his purchases. She looked at the television and cooed. “My, my—what a handsome firefighter, that one is!”

“Yeah,” Jongin croaked out, eyes glued to Minseok’s face. “Yeah, he is.”

 

 

☆彡

 

 

12:35 PM  
_hyung!_  
_i saw you on the news this morning_  
_i know what you do now_

 **Kim Minseok**  
12:48 PM  
_ㅋㅋㅋ_

12:52 PM  
_why didn’t you tell me from the start?  
there’s nothing shameful about being a firefighter_

 **Kim Minseok**  
1:03 PM  
_Mm, how do I say this~  
There are certain things I’m not sure how to tell you._

1:10 PM  
_why so vague…_

Minseok didn’t answer. Jongin didn’t push him, but he wanted more answers.

Mistake number one.

Jongin typed in Minseok’s name into Naver’s search box. He knew he’d have more luck searching up celebrities and idols on the internet, but he didn’t rule out the possibility it might have information on civilians. Today’s technology guaranteed everything was almost possible.

Search suggestions automatically appeared on the drop down box:

_kim minseok firefighter_

_kim minseok gangnam fire station bagel boy_

_kim minseok shirtless calendar_

Jongin zeroed in on the last suggestion, not even thinking twice to consider if this was the same person he was looking up or questioning why the keywords existed.

Mistake number two.

Thumbnails of shirtless firefighters posing in various ways beside a fire truck or on a fire engine popped up before his eyes. Jongin ignored them all save for Minseok’s. He wasn’t blessed in the height department compared to the other firefighters featured in the calendar, but his compact build was well-defined as it was impressive. Jongin never saw the appeal of too much muscle on a guy, but Minseok’s was developed in all the right places. The longer he looked, the more he wondered how long it took to form his abs and what it felt like to touch them—

“Control, Kim Jongin, control,” he scolded himself, but stared some more at Minseok’s picture. He tried not to raise his eyes above the collarbone area. Minseok’s pose wasn’t the definition of sexy—carrying a rolled-up hose over his shoulder with one hand—but the heated way he stared into the camera set off a pleasant curl in Jongin’s gut he’d rather not entertain.

Related articles reported select firefighters posed for the calendar to raise funds for burn victims. Minseok participated twice. Minseok looked gorgeous in both solo shots.

5:56 PM  
_i think i know why you don’t want to tell me you’re a firefighter  
your shirtless pics pop up as a top result in naver_

 **Kim Minseok**  
6:13 PM  
_Ahhh~_  
_Guilty._  
_ㅋㅋ_

6:18 PM  
_it’s for a good cause!  
nothing to be ashamed of_

 **Kim Minseok**  
6:25 PM  
_I know.  
I’m just… shy about it, you could say?_

Prim and proper Minseok, shy about the exposure of his abs. Jongin found it endearing, somehow.

He stared at the screen, contemplating what to say next. Typed words, pressed backspace, repeat.

6:28 PM  
_there’s nothing to be shy about  
your abs are cool_

Jongin read the last sentence over and over. Wondered if he was too forward or too obvious. Decided he should reword the sentence and praise Minseok’s entire being rather than focusing on a body part. Right, he would do that, he told himself, as he aimed for the backspace—

—but misfired and pressed Send.

Mistake number three.

Jongin watched in horror as the message sent and shrieked at its successful delivery.

He shrieked again when his phone alerted him of a new message.

 **Kim Minseok**  
6:30 PM  
_Are my abs all you saw? ;)_

 

 

☆彡

 

 

“His abs were all I saw,” Jongin half-whined, half-complained the following day, slumping on the table and almost knocking over the beer bottle by his wrist.

Sehun caught it in time and watched him with unveiled glee. “I called you so we could unwind and catch up, but the only thing you’ve done since we arrived is dry sob over Mr. Abs. Is he all you’re going to talk about until you pass out from the alcohol?”

“I should’ve saved myself the torture,” Jongin insisted, dry sobbing into his hands. “The internet is a dangerous place.”

Jongin had only replied to Minseok’s message with a neutral “ _ㅋㅋㅋ_ ” and didn’t check the app for the rest of the night. He’d found distraction in a plethora of news articles and clips related to Minseok. After Minseok had been featured in the first calendar, he had gained a modest amount of attention for his babyish face but well-sculpted body. He garnered more interest from the subsequent fire incidents he had happened to handle, as well as leading his team efficiently in rescuing people during typhoons in flood-prone areas.

“He looked so hot when he waded through the water to save the old man from getting swept away! How many guys have you met could look so hot on duty? That’s right: only him, Sehun. Only him.”

Sehun shook his head with amused exasperation. “This is serious, isn’t it? You talk about him with your trademark heart eyes.”

Jongin threw him a wary glance. “Do I want to know?”

Sehun placed a fist over his mouth and stared at him with besotted eyes, blinking his lashes with exaggerated coquettishness.

“I don’t look like that!” Jongin reached over to whack Sehun on the shoulder. Sehun didn’t even flinch, too busy laughing. “You’re my best friend; you should be commiserating and plotting with me on how to get him,” he griped, chugging down half of his beer. “Where’s my other best friend when you need him? I miss Taemin and his scheming ass.”

“I miss him more,” Sehun said, sobering up from his laughing fit.

Jongin groaned. “What the fuck? I’m not competing with you.”

“But think about it,” Sehun said, after knocking back his own beer. “Isn’t this your long-awaited solution? If you’re uncomfortable faking it with strangers, do it with him.”

Jongin snorted. “Sure, I’ll just saunter up to him and say, ‘Be my fake boyfriend because you’re my safest choice.’ No big deal.” He coated his words with maximal sarcasm, finishing the remnants of his beer and starting on another.

“Better than torturing yourself with blind dates that head nowhere.”

“Who cares? I’ve already imagined it, living the rest of my retirement days as a single dad of three dogs. If I have needs, I can always turn to one-night stands. I’m quite the looker, and I have the body. If I wasn’t lazy, I can get anyone I want.”

“Anyone except the firefighter whose pole you want to slide down on,” Sehun quipped, physically moving away this time when Jongin threatened to lunge at him but not without cackling.

The rest of the night tumbled into a fragmented haze comprised of dancing and drinking. Jongin woke up in Sehun’s apartment the next morning with a raging hangover and a bowl of _haejangguk_ waiting for him in the kitchen.

Jongin sipped his soup in silence, grimacing on occasion at the pounding in his temples. Sehun had already showered and dressed by the time he finished. Lucky bastard wasn’t suffering from a hangover, but he moved about the vicinity with minimum noise as possible out of consideration.

Jongin migrated to the couch after downing the aspirin, waiting for it to work its magic. He must’ve dozed off because the headache had disappeared when he opened his eyes. He sat up and found Sehun on the chaise, busy with his phone. Sehun sensed his movements and turned toward him.

“Better?” Sehun asked in a soft voice.

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Good.” Sehun sat upright on the chaise. “Now that you’re human enough for a decent conversation, do you remember anything you’ve said and done last night?”

Jongin’s eyebrows furrowed. Bits and pieces of last night’s events swirled in his head, some more vivid than others, but nothing stood out that warranted Sehun’s serious expression.

“Not in particular order or full clarity,” he admitted, racking his brain for clues. He scrubbed his face with his hand a few times. “Is there anything specific I should be remembering? I’m drawing a blank here.”

“Maybe your call log will help.”

“What?” Jongin snatched his phone from the coffee table after Sehun pointed at it, cold dread slowly seeping into his spine. A few presses and swipes pulled up his call log, heart nearly leaping up to his throat at the most recent call he had apparently received.

“ _Holy shit!_ ” Jongin yelled, staring at his phone screen in disbelief. “I picked up a call from my mom?”

“You picked up a call from your mom,” Sehun echoed with a somber nod.

“Why didn’t you stop me? What—why did she even call in the first place?” Jongin could sense a dull ache resurfacing, and this time not liquor-induced.

Like some cosmic joke, his mom called him several seconds later.

“Son, are you okay now?” Mrs. Kim asked straightaway. “I called you last night and you kept snickering between your sentences.”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Jongin chuckled, hoping he didn’t sound too nervous. “I was out clubbing with Sehun and we had a few rounds.”

“That’s nice, but may I just say you have the lousiest timing? Remember the blind date I told you I’d set you up on—the one with the youngest son of my junior from my college days? I’ve had everything arranged, but you just had to ruin everything by telling me too late you already have a boyfriend.”

“ _What?_ ” Jongin yelled into the phone.

“You dare yell at your own mother, young man?” Mrs. Kim challenged.

“N-no, that’s not—! Wait just a freaking minute here!” Jongin drew in some steadying breaths to calm the racing of his pulse. Boyfriend? He told his mother he had a _boyfriend_?

“If you had told me earlier you had a boyfriend, I wouldn’t have accepted the blind date.” Mrs. Kim’s voice pulled him back to reality. “You were talking so fondly of him, gushing and all.”

“Mom, last night, I was—”

“Drunk? Yes, I know. You sounded so happy talking about him, too.” Mrs. Kim chortled. “I’ll see what I can do to cancel the blind date.”

Panic raced through Jongin’s system. “Mom, that’s exactly—”

“You really do have a boyfriend, don’t you, Jongin? Surely you wouldn’t lie about having one so you could bail out of the blind date, like they do in dramas?” Mrs. Kim inquired—curious, cautious.

“Of course not,” Jongin said immediately—then winced at the blatant lie.

“I’ll trust you on that, then. Promise you’ll introduce him soon?”

“Just curious, did I ever mention a name?”

“No, you just kept going on about how much you like him.”

Jongin breathed a little easier at that. “Okay, Mom, I gotta go. Love you.” He hung up and dramatically plopped face down, groaning into the cushion.

“ _So._ ”

Sehun had only uttered one word, but the unbridled excitement behind it was so loud Jongin could’ve gone deaf from it.

“How will you break it down to Mr. Abs that he’s become your boyfriend when you’re not even dating?”

 

 

☆彡

 

 

“Hyung, perhaps this is too big a favor I’m asking of you, but you’re the only one I can turn to for it. Please don’t think of it strange—I swear there’s a really good reason behind it—but would you please pretend to be my boyfriend?”

The hardbound copy of _A Wrinkle in Time_ stared right back at him in response.

“Why is he talking to the books? What a weird guy,” someone behind Jongin whispered to their companion as they walked past him.

Jongin pretended he couldn’t feel the heat spreading in his cheeks from hearing the comment. He was pretty sure the Sci-Fi section would be one of the less populated areas at ten in the morning; hence, why he chose it to rehearse his speech in. Glancing one last time at the book he had a one-sided conversation with, he left to salvage himself from further embarrassment and avoid any more accidents.

He wasn’t too tired to pass out from his shift and Monggu was at Jungah’s, so his feet had brought him to Kyobo Book Centre. He initially visited to check for new novels by Higashino Keigo or old ones missing from his collection, but he deemed it a good chance to sort his thoughts on how to break down his proposal to Minseok on their next meeting. He let the idea marinate long enough, though it didn’t lessen the outrageousness of the idea.

He sought refuge in the _Manhwa_ section, rejoicing at its emptiness. He browsed the shelves with idle interest, more absorbed in fixing his future speech in his head and conjuring a hundred possible outcomes.

A hand on his shoulder wasn’t one of them.

Jongin turned around, curious, and almost wished he didn’t.

“I was right—it _is_ you,” said the person Jongin had long labeled as Pesky Ex. “Never expected to bump into you here. Haven’t outgrown your reading hobby, I see.”

The observation sounded harmless, but the trace of ridicule in Pesky Ex’s words rang loud and clear: an unfortunate benefit reaped from their shared history and reminded him why they never worked out.

“I see you haven’t changed,” Jongin said, quelling his flaring temper in favor of being civil. Pesky Ex deserved neither courtesy nor an iota of his attention, but he’d rather not start a ruckus in public. The faster he could get rid of him, the quicker he could remove himself from the sticky situation. “I have somewhere to be, so if you’ll excuse me—”

“What’s the rush? We haven’t seen each other in so long. Can’t we catch up?” Pesky Ex’s voice took on a saccharine quality bordering on arrogance. The lazy smile on his face did nothing to eclipse the smugness in it.

Jongin clenched and unclenched his fist to rid the itch of wiping it away with a punch.

“No, we can’t. Not now, not tomorrow, not ever,” he said, looking Pesky Ex in the eye. “We’re the type of exes who can never be friends, and I want it to stay it that way.”

Pesky Ex scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Oh, c’mon, you don’t mean that. I know I’ve screwed up a few times, but I’ve also proven I’m not bad to the bone. What’s the harm in a little catch up over coffee? I doubt you have someone who’ll forbid you from catching up with an ex.”

“As a matter of fact, he does.”

Jongin had never whipped his head around so fast.

Minseok stood at the end of the aisle, messenger bag slung over one shoulder. He met and held gazes with Jongin, lips quirking into a minute smile as he strode toward them with confident steps. Jongin had never been more thankful for a familiar face and soaked up the relief his presence provided.

His relief was short-lived when Minseok slipped a hand through the crook of his elbow, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt sleeve. He snuck a glance, doing his best not to let his shock and confusion show on his face.

“Sorry for making you wait. I had a hard time looking for the book I wanted,” Minseok said, like nothing was wrong, like this was an everyday occurrence; but Jongin caught the message he tried to send him with his eyes.

“It’s okay,” Jongin said, playing along, patting the hand on his elbow. He’d question everything later. “Let’s go?”

“You have a new boyfriend?”

The shock written on Pesky Ex’s face had Jongin swallowing a smirk.

“Yes. Problem?” Minseok asked, tone polite, but a challenge simmered beneath the words. “Just to clarify: I’m pretty chill about whom my boyfriend chooses to hang out with, but I draw a line if it’s with scum like you.”

“ _Scum?_ ” Pesky Ex exclaimed, baffled, scandalized. Anger distorted his handsome face into an unattractive sight. “You don’t even know me!”

“I know enough to see that my boyfriend is uncomfortable in your presence, and I don’t want him anywhere near you,” Minseok said coolly, unfazed by the outburst.

“What do you see in this fetus-faced shrimp?” Pesky Ex growled out the question at Jongin.

“Fetus-faced shrimps make better boyfriends than thickheaded jerks,” Jongin retorted, not sorry for his words. He removed Minseok’s hand from his elbow to hold it in his own and half-led, half-dragged him away without waiting for Pesky Ex’s reply. He didn’t need to. He wasn’t interested in what he had to say.

Minseok’s soft call of his name stopped Jongin in his tracks. Jongin took in his surroundings of concrete buildings and cars zooming past. Kyobo was a good block away from where they now stood.

“You okay?” Minseok asked, peering at his face.

Jongin took several deep breaths. Nodded. “Sorry for just dragging you out here, hyung. I didn’t even consider if you had somewhere to be.”

“I do, but I’m not in a rush. I see a Starbucks nearby. We can stay there until you’ve calmed down?”

Minseok led the way this time. The belated realization of their hands still linked dawned on Jongin when Minseok steered him away from walking into a restaurant sidewalk chalkboard. Minseok only let go so he could rummage his bag for his wallet. Mere seconds ticked by since, but Jongin wanted to hold hands again.

“Do you want to hear a confession?” Minseok asked, after they’d occupied a table in the open air area on the top floor. “I had no idea you were in Kyobo and was ready to leave you alone, but I overheard your conversation and it didn’t sit well with me. Was my acting okay? I didn’t go overboard claiming we were boyfriends, did I? It was the first thing I thought of at the time.”

Uncertainty clouded Minseok’s face. The longer Jongin stared, the stronger his desire to kiss it away.

Instead, he pushed the idea to the back of his mind and shook his head. “You saved my ass big time back there, hyung. Thank you. I owe you.”

“This makes us even. For the time you saved me from the pigeons in the park.” Minseok smiled, sipping his iced Americano.

A beat of silence passed before Minseok spoke again. “It’s probably not my business to pry, and you can choose not to answer, but is your ex…?” He trailed off, letting the question hang unspoken in the air.

“Nah, he never bothered me after we broke up. Bumping into each other today was purely coincidence. Pesky Ex has his good points, but his arrogance is overbearing and we were never on the same page regarding my job. He kept trying to talk me into switching careers when we were still together. I refused. I love my job. It’s a big part of who I am. He couldn’t seem to accept that, so it was pointless staying together.”

Minseok frowned. “Seems to me he’s ashamed of what you do.”

Jongin shrugged, shredding his straw wrapper into pieces. “Embalming is an unorthodox career choice, I’ll admit, but not something to be ashamed of. Can’t say I miss him—I’m happier without him, anyway.” Wrapper gone, he toyed with the straw of his drink next. “What were you doing in Kyobo, hyung?”

“I picked up a children’s book I reserved two weeks ago. I’m giving it as a present to a friend’s child.”

“Do you like reading?”

Minseok’s face took on an uncharacteristic shyness as replied, “Does it count if my hobby is reading children’s books?”

Jongin couldn’t stop the laugh from tumbling out of his mouth. Any other person and he’d have been disappointed, or perhaps even unimpressed, that the extent of their reading was children’s literature. He appreciated Minseok’s honesty and the endearing way he came clean with it.

“It’s still a form of reading,” he said, laughter tapering off into a chuckle. ”At least I can say you read. Pesky Ex always complained about my reading habit. Said I was impossible to talk to when I was immersed in a novel, even if I repeatedly told him not to disturb me during my reading time.” Jongin rolled his eyes upon remembrance.

“Hopefully, your next boyfriend will be more understanding and have an interest in reading,” Minseok said, lips stretching into a sincere smile.

 _Like you,_ Jongin wanted to say, but drowned the words with a gulp of green tea latte.

 

 

☆彡

 

 

Jongin stifled a yawn walking down the streets in search of food. He worked the double shift after a co-worker called in sick, the number of tasks keeping him preoccupied for hours. He only realized he was famished after leaving the funeral home. He could feel the dull throb on his temples from skipping meals but held on while deciding on what he wanted.

One look at the Kyochon sign and he needed no further convincing.

Jongin’s hand missed the door when someone knocked into him from behind. He stumbled but caught himself in time. Annoyed, he turned around, reprimand ready at the tip of his tongue.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to—Jongin?”

“Minseok-hyung.” Jongin’s surprise morphed into giddiness. “What are you doing here?”

“Routine building check-ups.” Minseok held up a folder and a notebook. He was dressed in the black, formal firefighter uniform complete with the cap. “We check establishments every week in each neighborhood to make sure they’re complying with the standard fire regulations.”

A man bound up to them, also dressed in the same uniform. “Captain, why did you run off? So mean; I wasn’t even done explaining!” he complained, the end of his syllables tapering off into a whine.

Minseok expelled an exasperated sigh. “Jongdae, how many times do I have to tell you I’m not interested in participating in the group blind date?”

A ripple of anxiety ran along Jongin’s spine.

“But why? You’re usually game about it—what changed? The other party specifically asked for you to come. It also raises our game if you do.” Jongdae sounded real earnest instead of pushy in his agenda.

Minseok’s weak laughter sounded unlike himself. “I’m just not interested.”

“Okay, give me a good reason why I shouldn’t include you. If it’s convincing, I’ll drop it,” Jongdae bargained.

Jongin stepped forward and curved an arm around Minseok’s shoulders. “Because taken guys shouldn’t be attending group blind dates anymore.”

Minseok and Jongdae’s mouths fell open in tandem, looking hilariously cartoonish.

Jongdae snapped out of his shock first. “ _Boyfriend?_ ” he said the word like he’d been dealt a blow out of nowhere. “I didn’t know you had a boyfriend!” He punched Minseok on the shoulder and laughed. “Where have you been hiding him? How could you keep this from me? I’m your best friend!”

“It sort of just… happened.” Minseok traded meaningful looks with Jongin, the gratefulness and relief apparent in his eyes.

Jongdae must’ve misconstrued the look for something else because he said, “You’re boyfriends, all right. Your loving looks say it all.”

Jongin ignored the flare of heat in his cheeks reaching all the way to the tips of his ears. “P-pardon?”

“Don’t tease,” Minseok chided. “There’s a reason I kept him a secret from you guys.”

“Introductions are in order, don’t you think?” Jongdae flashed an amiable smile, Cupid’s bow curled just so at the ends it resembled a cat’s. “Hello, Minseok-hyung’s secret”—(Minseok snorted and Jongin afforded a chuckle)—“I’m Kim Jongdae, his best friend. I don’t know how you slipped from my radar, but I’ll keep close watch on you now.”

The words lacked real threat, instead containing impishness Jongin sand introducing himself in return.

Jongdae clapped his hands together in joy. “A fellow Kim Jong! I have high expectations from you, then. Don’t let me down.”

“Reminder that we’re still on duty and didn’t come here to dilly-dally.” Minseok lightly pushed Jongdae forward. “Go on ahead to the next place on the list. I’ll follow in a sec.”

“Are you that eager to get rid of me so you can spend time with your boyfriend?” Jongdae teased with a playful wag of his eyebrows. “Fine, fine; I’ll leave you two alone and pretend you aren’t going to make out in the nearest alley.”

“Bye, Jongdae.” Minseok pushed him a second time with a laugh.

Left by themselves, Minseok faced Jongin, relief and gratefulness scrawled on his features. “Thank you. Thank you so much for your quick thinking and helping me change Jongdae’s mind.”

Jongin felt one part flattered and two parts awkward. Glad as he was to have helped, the embarrassment from his brazen actions had now caught up to him. He shoved his hands into his jeans pockets, suddenly taking interest in his shoelaces. “I did the first thing that came to mind. Think of it as payment for the time in Kyobo.”

“Wait, this means I owe you again—”

“No, no, don’t think of it that way!” Jongin interjected so fast, Minseok was taken aback. In a calmer voice, he added, “I did it because I wanted to.”

 _And because I_ do _want to be your boyfriend,_ he wanted to add, but didn’t.

“Thanks again, Jongin. If there’s anything I can do to help you out in the future, I’ll do it—no questions asked.”

Jongin thought this a good opportunity to bring up his plan, but Minseok was already leaving before he could get a word out. He’d already failed the first few times; he wasn’t sure if he would be able to bring it up at all.

Not until days later, when Minseok texted him to meet up. Jongin thought nothing unusual of it, save for the suspicious, palpable formality he could feel bleeding through the phone screen.

“You had something you wanted to discuss, hyung?” Jongin asked, puncturing the lid of his cup with a straw.

Minseok sipped his coffee, his grip on the mug unusually tight. Conflicting emotions played out on his face.

Several beats of silence passed before Minseok broke it.

“Word of me having a boyfriend started circulating around the station. No one could believe I’d skip out on a group blind date, even more so that I was taken.”

“Is it so unbelievable for you to be unavailable?” Jongin asked, puzzled.

“I have an infamous reputation for being a workaholic and a very private person.” Minseok sounded sheepish in his admittance. “As an example, it took Jongdae two years into our friendship before he found out I had a younger sister. I can’t blame people for wanting to snoop, so the hearsay had the station abuzz, and my friends won’t stop asking me questions.”

“What sort of questions?”

“Questions about who my boyfriend is. What’s he like. If and when can I introduce him.”

The implication of Minseok’s words registered lightning quick. Jongin leaned back in his chair, studying Minseok as if he couldn’t believe what was happening—or what he was hearing, even.

“You’re saying we should be fake boyfriends so you could have someone to introduce,” Jongin stated more than asked. Saying it aloud validated the reality of the situation; hearing it triggered a bubbling excitement in his chest.

“I’m sorry.” Minseok clasped his hands in front of him like one would in prayer, scrunching up his face in apology. “I wouldn’t be asking if I could work or talk my way out of it; but Jongdae has already seen you, so it would be fishy if I said we’ve broken up or asked somebody else.”

“I don’t mind.”

“What?” Minseok’s hands fell on the tabletop in his surprise.

“I don’t mind being your fake boyfriend,” Jongin said, pulse accelerating with each uttered word. “I could use one myself, although my situation is different.”

Jongin told Minseok his predicament, omitting some parts but stayed true to the account. He was taking a gamble here like Minseok, albeit a lot more was at stake for him due to his growing crush. The least he could do was to be as truthful as possible.

“It must’ve frustrated you a lot being set up on blind dates,” Minseok said with a sympathetic smile. “My offer came at a convenient, then?”

“You could say that,” Jongin confessed, his turn to feel sheepish. “I wasn’t going to admit to anything and solve it on my own, but I thought why not help each other out?”

“You’re agreeing to meet my friends? As my pretend boyfriend?” Minseok asked, still not quite believing it.

Jongin nodded. Smiled. “I’ll help you out for as long as you need.”

A huge sigh of relief drained away the tension from Minseok’s body, form more relaxed now. “Thank you so, so much for agreeing, Jongin. I wouldn’t have known what to do had you said no.”

Jongin’s stomach did cartwheels at Minseok’s gummy smile. If he already had this effect on him when they’d barely started, what more when they’d set their plans into motion?

 

 

☆彡

 

 

Jongin stared at the building before him, huge and imposing in its steel and glass glory. Bright red fire engines and trucks and an ambulance were parked inside the open garage bays. No firefighters in sight.

An elbow nudging him on the side out of nowhere almost had him dropping the bags of takeout chicken.

Jongdae was grinning at him when he turned around. He himself was carrying two bags from Emart. “Fellow Kim Jong! We were expecting you; come with me.”

Jongin’s nerves eased in Jongdae’s company while talking and walking inside the station. They passed by other firefighters, some sparing Jongin a curious glance before minding their business again, and walked through brightly-lit corridors with identical-looking doors. They stopped in front of one labeled “Captain’s Office.”

Jongdae ushered him in, motioning toward one of the chairs. “The captain is currently in a meeting with the fire chief, but he won’t take long. I have to get these”—he lifted the bags—“to the kitchen. Will you be okay by yourself?”

Once alone, Jongin deposited the chicken by the foot of his chair and took in his surroundings. The office was decorated with the bare necessities expected of an officer’s quarters: a desk with a phone, computer, and stacked folders in a neat pile, a bookshelf on one end of the room, a wall-mounted television, an intercom speaker, and a mobile radio crackling on occasion with updates.

Jongin heard singing from outside. The closed door muffled the sound, but it undeniably drew nearer to this particular office.

The door swung open, revealing a man of average height, dyed brown hair, and a friendly face. He donned a long-sleeved, orange shirt with the official patch of the fire station sewn on the upper left arm and black pants. He wasted no time slipping into the chair across of him, a curious sort of amusement lighting up his face.

“So, you’re the infamous boyfriend,” he said, without malice of any sort, eyes twinkling with obvious interest.

Jongin wasn’t sure what or how to respond, so he opted for a smile.

“Don’t scare him, Baekhyun. Captain won’t like it,” came another man’s chide from the doorway. He was shorter than Baekhyun, his big, round eyes and noticeably heart-shaped lips a stark contrast to the deepness of his voice. He also wore the same uniform as Baekhyun’s.

“Excuse you, I’m harmless,” Baekhyun sassed, ducking away from the other man’s swipe at him. Their actions spoke of playfulness unique to close friends.

“Don’t mind Kyungsoo; he just likes keeping me in line, even if I don’t ask for it.” Baekhyun sent him a cheeky wink.

“Don’t mind Baekhyun; he can be pretty loud and outrageous, but he means well. I hope you won’t mind waiting for the captain with us? He already informed us of your visit.” Kyungsoo’s smile softened his features, injecting an almost boyish quality to it.

Baekhyun and Kyungsoo introduced themselves as an EMT and a fire engineer, respectively. Baekhyun attended the same academy as Minseok and crossed paths again after he graduated. Kyungsoo, on the other hand, was assigned to the station. Despite the age and rank differences, they grew close to Minseok after spending numerous shifts together.

Jongin shared a bit of himself, such as age and where he’d studied, but already dreaded what he would say or do if—

“I hope this isn’t too forward, but what do you do for a living?” Kyungsoo asked.

Jongin wished he had a glass of water to soothe the sudden drying of his throat. He expected to be asked, but not this soon.

Baekhyun peered into his face. “Do you not work full time? That’s okay; with the kind of economy we have, part-timing is better than unemployment.”

“Um—”

“Hey, twin terrors, are you being mean to Jongin?” Jongdae’s loud, teasing voice announced his arrival even before he physically entered the room. Trailing behind him was Minseok, to Jongin’s utmost relief. His heart skipped a beat at their eye contact, especially when Minseok smiled.

“Sorry, did you wait long?” Minseok stood by Jongin’s chair, fingers grazing against his shoulder before resting his hand on it lightly.

Jongin’s heart rammed against his chest. Ridiculous how hyper-aware he’d become—his crush must be worse than he originally thought. “No; Baekhyun-ssi and Kyungsoo-ssi kept me company.”

Minseok noticed the chicken. “You bought food?”

“I couldn’t come empty-handed. I hope chicken is okay?” Jongin asked, shooting the others an uncertain look.

“Chicken is more than okay,” Baekhyun chirped. “We’re not picky eaters. We’ll eat anything as long as it’s edible. We’ll need the energy, too, since we’re on a forty-eight-hour shift.”

They moved to the common room for more space, each of them opening cartons of chicken and side dishes to share. Jongdae distributed cutlery and Kyungsoo took charge of cups. Jongin and Minseok sat a little closer compared to the others, their elbows and shoulders brushing whenever either of them moved. Jongin exerted double effort in keeping composure at the minutest contact.

Said effort was tested when Minseok placed a hand on his knee and said, with a soft smile, “You really didn’t have to buy food for us, but thank you.”

Jongin stiffened but told himself to relax. Boyfriends touched each other’s knees. Boyfriends touched—period. Nothing unusual, so he shouldn’t act shocked or he’d blow their cover; though it proved difficult, when the knee Minseok was touching spread warmth through his entire body and wiped away coherent thought.

“Look at these love birds, not caring if we get indigestion from their mushiness,” Baekhyun teased in fake annoyance.

Jongdae turned Baekhyun’s head to his direction and fed him a spoonful of rice. “Stop being jealous and eat.”

Minseok removed his hand, clucking his tongue in mock reproach. Jongin already wanted it back in place and fought off a pout.

“How did you two meet?” Kyungsoo asked.

The awaited million-won question.

Days before the visit, they’d discussed their cover story and decided to stick to the truth and their current timeline to avoid future discrepancies. If they couldn’t answer a question, they’d use the excuse of still getting to know each other better to cover up their uncertainty.

So Jongin told them how Monggu found and saved Minseok from the flock of pigeons.

No one dared look Minseok’s way, but the violent trembling of their shoulders from poorly-contained laughter was telling.

Minseok sighed, like he’d expected this reaction. “Guys—”

The three burst out laughing, with Minseok helplessly looking at them.

Kyungsoo collected himself first. “Sorry, Captain, but imagining you hugging a pole is…”

“Birds are scary, okay?” Minseok reasoned, attempting a straight face but failing. “Do you think I deliberately look for them when I go jogging?”

“And then came Jongin, without the shining armor and white horse, but with his cute self and a poodle,” Jongdae said.

“Shouldn’t you be dating his dog, in that case?” Baekhyun chimed in, waggling his eyebrows in a comical manner.

“Why am I friends with the lot of you?” Minseok shook his head. He waited for the laughter to subside before adding, “That was basically how everything started. I gave him my number to ask him out for coffee as thanks. Got to know each other better and here we are now.”

“Just like that?” Jongdae asked, tone incredulous.

Jongin blinked, confused but curious just the same.

Jongdae must’ve sensed his stare because he said, “This is the first time I’ve heard of the captain doing such a thing. Usually he’s too shy to try anything on the first meeting.”

“I’m right here, Jongdae,” Minseok deadpanned.

“It’s true,” Jongdae argued. “You’re the type who needs to do things in a set order and with plenty of planning. You must’ve been so smitten if you gave your number right away. Didn’t know you were one of those ‘love at first sight’ types.”

“Correction: it was attraction at first sight. I was a goner when Jongin flashed me the most gorgeous smile during our first meeting.” Minseok gazed at Jongin and added, with utmost seriousness, “To this day, it remains my favorite smile.”

“Did you hear that? Our captain is smitten! Smitten, I tell you!” Baekhyun took hold Kyungsoo by the shoulders and shook him.

“Anyway,” Minseok said, in an attempt at diversion, though Jongin noticed his reddened cheeks. “We’ve only been dating for around three months. We’re still getting to know each other. I invited him here because you’re a curious bunch and to prove I wasn’t making things up.”

“I still can’t believe you have a boyfriend now, wow,” Baekhyun said. He looked Jongin’s way and asked, “How did you last three months with the captain? He doesn’t even talk much.”

“What kind of question is that?” Kyungsoo asked, sending Baekhyun a strange look.

Jongin chuckled, not taking offense. “We can be quiet together.”

Baekhyun snapped his fingers. “Of course—talk is cheap compared to sharing a look. You can converse just from staring into each other’s eyes. If that’s not love, I don’t know what is.”

Jongdae fed Baekhyun a spoonful of kimchi. “We have enough grease from the couple as it is; don’t add to it.”

Baekhyun protested, but nobody could understand what he was saying.

“Is that all you’re eating? You need to eat more.” Minseok chose the best-looking pieces from the box and placed them in Jongin’s paper plate. “You’ll need your energy if you’re working the graveyard shift.”

Jongin felt the heat seep into his cheeks from the sudden attention but reveled in it just the same. _Boyfriends,_ he reminded himself.

“He works a graveyard shift?” Kyungsoo piped up. “Do you work in the medical field?”

“I didn’t know Captain had a thing for doctors,” Baekhyun said, kimchi now gone. “Can we expect to call the doctor—or in this case, Doctor Jongin—if captain is hurt?”

“He doesn’t,” Minseok answered for Jongin. “But his workplace is within hospital premises.”

“Surgeon?”

“Pediatrician?”

“Dietitian?”

“Physical therapist?”

“Pharmacist?”

“Midwife?”

“Embalmer.”

The gradual fade into silence was a familiar friend Jongin didn’t miss.

“That’s…” Baekhyun spoke up, hesitance staining his voice.

Jongin lifted his gaze from the chicken with some effort and waited.

Baekhyun cleared his voice twice. “I was thinking utility worker since he didn’t look like he was agreeing to any of our suggestions.” A slow smile broke out. “Embalming isn’t the most common profession, but it’s still a job. What a good-looking embalmer boyfriend you have, Captain!”

Jongin’s shoulders sagged in relief. One hurdle cleared.

“I hope this doesn’t mean you’ll bother Jongin to set you up with a co-worker if they’re as attractive as him,” Jongdae said. “You’re already hitting on several people, the latest one that spacey medic—”

“Jongdae, you still have leftover chicken waiting for you! Won’t you open your mouth for this lonely drumstick and grace it with your canines—”

Kyungsoo gave the scuffling duo a wilting look before directing his attention to Jongin. “You might’ve heard this so many times already, but embalmer is the last thing I’d think of you.”

Dinner commenced more smoothly afterward. Baekhyun even inquired about the restorative process of more difficult cases, particularly those related to fire incidents. Jongin shared his knowledge though expressed reservations of going in-depth due to the sensitive nature of the topic.

“It’s fine; we’ve had more unsavory conversations in the past. This is nothing,” Jongdae assured.

“We have strong stomachs.” Baekhyun patted his belly for emphasis.

“When you’ve served as a firefighter for years, you develop tolerance for just about anything,” Kyungsoo added.

Minseok’s encouraging nod fed Jongin’s rising confidence and launched into discussions about whatever embalming inquiries they had.

Dinner concluded on a good note, and they parted with cheerful farewells. Soon Jongin and Minseok were walking out of the station and down the sidewalk leading to the subway.

“I’m so sorry if my friends are intense. It takes some getting used to, but I hope you didn’t mind?” Minseok asked.

“They’re really nice, hyung. I like them,” Jongin said.

“Thank god.” Minseok breathed out a huge sigh in obvious relief. “Baekhyun and Jongdae can rile you up if you’re not used to talkative people. Kyungsoo and his silence is my much-needed salvation during breaks. I’m glad you didn’t find them overwhelming.”

The night breeze was a welcome reprieve from the summer heat, the comfortable silence often broken by the sound of passing vehicles. Walking close together like this felt nice, even if it sent Jongin’s heartbeat into a frantic rhythm.

It went into overdrive when Minseok wordlessly slipped his hand into his.

Jongin stopped dead in his tracks from the shock. Minseok offered no explanation except squeezing his hand and prompting him to continue walking like he hadn’t done anything unbelievable.

“This is okay, right?” Minseok asked, hesitation lacing his syllables. “I mean, I hope it’s not too forward? If we’ll continue faking this relationship, we need to come off as natural as possible to throw off suspicion.”

Of course—how could Jongin forget? They were and would remain pretend boyfriends no matter how much hand-holding they engaged in.

Jongin met Minseok’s imploring gaze and forced on a smile.

“I was thinking: we could hone our acting skills by spending time together. Pretending could come easier if we know what to do on certain situations. We can also be more aware of each other’s boundaries.”

“Are you asking me out on a fake date as my fake boyfriend?” Minseok asked, sounding far too amused instead of the opposite.

Jongin did a one-shoulder shrug, ignoring the tingle of excitement racing across the surface of his skin. “I’m just saying if we can convince other people we’re a couple, no one would suspect we’re frauds.”

Minseok hummed. “My spontaneity could use some work,” he said, slowly. “We could learn more about each other, too. It _can_ come in handy if we’re suddenly asked more personal details about each other. Let’s start this week?”

Nothing was more torturous than walking hand in hand with the person you harbored an incurable crush on.

The torture was amplified tenfold knowing the act meant nothing to said crush and only took it in stride in the name of pretend.

Jongin couldn’t say which was worse between those; but for now, he’d concentrate on the feel of Minseok’s hand on his and ignore the small voice in his head whispering he would never have this kind of luxury outside of this faux relationship.

That someday, Minseok would be holding someone else’s hand but harbor genuine feelings for the lucky person.

That someday, Jongin would be left with nothing but the what-ifs of a reality that could’ve been, but didn’t.

 

 

☆彡

 

 

“Mixing corn and ketchup with steamed eggs is the most horrific idea you’ve come up with in the years I’ve known you, but _this_? You’ve really outdone yourself.”

Jongin didn’t miss the heavily-ladened sarcasm behind Sehun’s words. Had they been face to face, Sehun would’ve probably paired it with an eye roll, too. A phone call wouldn’t stop him from doing it, he was sure.

“Minseok-hyung has helped me solve half my problems. I’ve done the same for him. But we can’t stay complacent; we aren’t completely off the hook.” Jongin took a deep inhale of his red, plaid shirt and shrugged it on.

“Kim Jongin, I did not raise you to be a fool,” Sehun chastised in his best impersonation of a scolding mother.

“Hyung agreed! He thinks it’s a great idea!”

“You’re both fools.”

“So supportive,” Jongin deadpanned. He buttoned his shirt but left the first three untouched. He checked his reflection one last time. “Just trust me on this, okay? I know what I’m doing.”

“Do you?” Sehun asked, sans heat. “A stomachache persists for two days, at most. Heartbreak lasts longer.”

Jongin smiled, even if Sehun couldn’t see it. “I’ll be fine.”

He convinced himself so during the entire subway ride, and when he held Minseok’s hand as they deliberated on what movie to watch.

Sitting on a Sweetbox sofa provided extra comfort Jongin never experienced with regular seats. He sighed in bliss as he sank down on it, the softness threatening to lull him to sleep. The limited space kept his mind awake, however, since the sofa design clearly catered to lovers who aimed to cuddle without the usual drink holder lodged in between. Not that he expected a cuddle session with Minseok, even if his warm, sturdy presence was luring him to press closer and lay his head on his shoulder—

“Oh? Sleepy?” Minseok asked, angling his face so he could look into Jongin’s.

Jongin straightened up so fast in his shock. “I didn’t—I should’ve asked—I don’t know why—”

“No,” Minseok said, interrupting his rambling. “Asking permission isn’t necessary. Boyfriends, remember?” He beckoned him back by patting the same shoulder.

Jongin resumed his position, initial reluctance evaporating as he soaked up the inviting heat of Minseok’s body. Minseok never voiced any complaints about the weight of his head or when Jongin slotted their fingers together halfway through the movie. Jongin’s eyes were glued to the screen, but wisps of conversation from three rows down floated to his ears.

“Look at those boyfriends. Isn’t it too hot for cuddling?”

“Hush; the air conditioning is the perfect excuse for it.”

“Ah, now I want a boyfriend I can cuddle with, too.”

Jongin bit his lower lip in secret satisfaction and snuggled closer.

Their hands remained joined while discussing the movie and walking without aim within building premises. Jongin bought them ice cream cones as they strolled down the length of the streets lined with shops selling various merchandise. A toy soccer ball they saw on display sparked an animated conversation about their favorite team and player.

“I enjoy watching soccer more than playing. I suck at it,” Jongin said with a small laugh, devouring the rest of his cone.

“I like playing, but I seldom get the chance. Plus, there’s no one I can play with in the station.” Minseok dug out a napkin from his bag’s side pocket and dabbed the corner of Jongin’s mouth with it.

“Wha—” Jongin caught the blot of color against the napkin’s whiteness. Minseok had wiped away an ice cream stain for him. He smiled. “Thanks, hyung.”

They flitted from shop to shop until Jongin’s eyes zeroed in on a neat row of different toy cars. He plucked the mini police car from the pile and inspected it from every angle.

“You collect toys?” Minseok asked.

Jongin shook his head, swapping the police car with a tractor. “It’s for my niece. I like giving her presents, but half the time she ignores them.”

Minseok took interest in a miniature ambulance. “And yet you continue giving her presents?”

“I am nothing but persistent. She’ll understand my heart one day.” Jongin shot Minseok a pleading look. “Please don’t get me started on my niece, hyung; I won’t be able to stop talking about her if I do. She’s the most adorable little girl in my life right now.”

“I won’t stop you if talking about her makes you happy,” Minseok assured.

Jongin unleashed his embarrassing uncle side his friends had seen one too many times. Minseok displayed attentiveness by asking questions and cooing on his choice anecdotes, and also helped him choose possible toys she’d be interested in.

As they debated between a stuffed bear and a poodle plush toy, Jongin’s eyes skimmed over the assorted trinkets on display. In a sea of couple items, he was drawn to two rope bracelets in black and red with identical twined silver rings. Before he could ask or stop himself, his hand took a mind of its own and reached out for them.

“Those are nice bracelets,” Minseok commented. “Do you like them?”

“I’m not one for couple stuff—”

“—but let me change your mind on that!”

A middle-aged man with a receding hairline jumped up from below the display stand. He was probably expecting them, if the excitement in his eyes implied anything. He looked at the bracelets in Jongin’s hold and said, “You have an eye for good things. Those bracelets are our shop’s best-sellers. They might not look much at first glance, but they’re durable and the silver doesn’t tarnish easily.”

Jongin looked at the bracelets, as if ascertaining the truth behind the shop owner’s words. “We’re not buying.”

“Aw, but why not? Don’t you want to make your boyfriend happy?” The shop owner batted pitiful puppy eyes at Jongin, pout looking out of place for someone his age but comical just the same. “Just look at him—how could you say no to that face?” he exclaimed, clutching his chest to complete the scandalized look.

Jongin looked at Minseok, baffled laughter leaving him for a lack of a better response.

They’d succeeded in being taken for a couple many times today, and while it meant they’d achieved their goal, he didn’t know where they stood regarding accessories showing off their (pseudo-)status.

Minseok decided for them by taking the bracelets and handing them over to the shop owner. “We’ll take it.”

“We are?” Jongin asked, surprised. He saw the price tag dangling from the bracelets and almost choked on his spit at the figures. “No way are we buying these with its original price. It’s too expensive! We should ask for a discount.”

The shop owner stopped mid-pack. “Your boyfriend is willing to spend on you, but you want a discount?”

“Frugality needs to be practiced in the kind of economy we have,” Jongin said. “What’s your policy on discounts?”

“We usually give ten percent off.”

“Can’t you make it fifty?”

The shop owner gasped. “That’s too much! Why not fifteen?”

“Jongin, it’s okay,” Minseok said, touching his arm. “I’ll pay for it.”

“No, hyung; it’s too pricey. I’m not letting you spend too much. Thirty?”

“No way, kid! If you want, we can settle for twenty.”

“Twenty-five.”

“Twenty’s the lowest I’ll go.”

“Twenty-five. Take it or leave it,” Jongin insisted. “If you won’t, we can go buy somewhere else. You think you’re the only shop selling bracelets here? Look, your neighbor is willing to give me thirty percent with free engraving.”

The shop owner hesitated. “You drive a hard bargain, young man.”

Jongin couldn’t suppress his triumphant smile as he admired the red bracelet around his left wrist. They’d taken refuge in the nearest café after it started raining since neither of them had brought umbrellas.

“See, hyung; we were able to get the bracelets at a more reasonable price. Just needed to bargain and be relentless about it.”

Minseok settled a cup of chocolate and whipped cream monstrosity in front of him and chuckled. “Good to know you have bargaining skills. But, I wouldn’t have minded paying it in full. Boyfriends can splurge on each other, don’t they?”

“You can splurge on a ring when the time comes.”

Jongin wanted to slap himself for saying that.

What was he thinking? The bracelets were already pushing it; what right did he have to demand for a ring? Rings meant commitment and symbolized something real: the exact opposite of their relationship.

“Silver, platinum, or titanium?” Minseok asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He propped up his right arm to rest his chin on his hand. Around his wrist dangled the black bracelet.

“Geez, hyung, I was just kidding.” Jongin did his best in laughing it off, despite the red-hot heat flaring in his cheeks.

Minseok savored his favorite Americano and praised its quality, swiping a tongue over his bottom lip. Jongin should’ve looked away, but he couldn’t help noticing how small Minseok’s mouth was and how pink his lips were. How it might feel to kiss him, even at the risk of tasting the atrocious coffee in the process—

Jongin hurriedly sipped some more of his iced choco, relying on the coldness to numb his dangerous thoughts.

“How do you stand drinking coffee? I’ve tried before; it tastes like poison.”

Minseok laughed, but not in a mean way. “That’s a unique comparison.”

“My friends and I would play games where the loser has to drink Americano. I would never pay for a drink that would make me suffer.”

“Or maybe you just need better luck at games if you keep losing?” Minseok teased, an impish tilt to his mouth. He tapped his fingers on the side of his cup to a soundless rhythm. “There’s no grand story behind it. I just ended up liking it after a few cups.”

“You make it look like it’s the most delicious thing in the world.”

“Do I?” Minseok asked, curious, followed by a short laugh tinged with shyness. “Maybe it comes from my enjoyment of it. Do you want to try? You might not change your mind if you really dislike coffee, though.”

“Is that a challenge? I accept.”

The quick flash of surprise that stole across Minseok’s face was worth the brave declaration. “Are you sure? You don’t really have to.”

“I want to,” Jongin insisted, eyeing Minseok’s cup. “Can I drink from yours? It would be a waste of money ordering a new one.”

“Sure.” Minseok pushed his cup toward him, but before Jongin could take it, he asked, “Are you really sure about this? I’m giving you a chance to back out now.”

“C’mon, hyung, have a little more faith in me. The least I can do is not spit it out.”

Jongin brought the cup to his lips, blowing away some of the steam and took a mouthful.

A stringent bitterness exploded on his tongue and spread like wildfire. Jongin pulled a face and swallowed right away. The liquid left behind a nasty aftertaste he would rather not taste again.

Jongin immediately guzzled his drink to wash away the vile taste. “You’re right: I will _never_ change my mind about coffee. It will always taste like poison to me.”

Minseok regarded him in amusement. “You’re lucky you’re cute, or I’d have taken offense on your aversion.”

“You think I’m cute?” Jongin grinned so wide he was sure it could bridge the East Sea by itself.

The hint of a smile played around the edges of Minseok’s lips. “I do. You’re extra cute when you complain, too.”

Jongin’s heart hammered at this newfound knowledge.

Minseok took back his drink and sipped. “You know, I have this dream to open my own coffee shop.”

“Really?” Jongin’s interest piqued. “What a contrast from your present occupation.”

“I might be a firefighter now, but I haven’t stopped dreaming about it,” Minseok said. “I plan on obtaining a barista license then open my own shop.” His face took on a dreamy look, and he spoke of his wishes like he’d carried them in his heart for a long time.

Jongin could picture it in his mind: a quaint little coffee shop in the heart of Seoul exuding a homey feel. Soft music would play in the background, calming but not obtrusive as the customers went about with their business. The café would attract customers from all walks of life. Minseok would manage everything but have part-timers working for him. His coffee would gain a cult following, or maybe Minseok himself would be the café’s selling point.

But then, his fans would be disappointed if they find out the handsome barista and owner was off the market, taken by none other than Jongin himself—

Jongin drained the rest of his drink. He should order extra ice next time for maximum brain freeze just so he’d stop imagining.

“That sounds real nice, hyung,” Jongin said. “I hope your dream comes true one day.”

“I also have this other dream where I brew coffee for the person I like. I’m not good with words or showing affection—that’s as romantic as I can get, I guess.”

“What if the person you like doesn’t drink coffee?”

Minseok stared straight into Jongin’s eyes, tilting his head a bit. “I’ll compromise. I’ve only tried it a few times, but hot chocolate could be a good substitute?”

Jongin hid a smile behind his cup, relishing in the fluttering of his chest.

 

 

☆彡

 

 

 **Minseok-hyung**  
3:33 PM  
_Baekhyun insists on inviting you to a noraebang session today._  
_Do you want to?_  
_No worries if you can’t make it._  
_I already told them you might not come since you’re still recovering._

“You’ve been on your phone a lot lately.”

Jongin stopped mid-step and looked up. Jinki was standing by the funeral home’s entryway, signature smile on his face.

“Is it someone special?” Jinki gestured toward his phone.

Jongin bobbed his head once, slowly. A sheepish smile formed. He didn’t realize him being on his phone would be noticeable, especially to Jinki, who was always on the go and whose workload never seemed to let up.

“Am I that obvious?” he asked, anyway, strolling over to Jinki.

Jinki chuckled but shook his head. “The few times I’ve seen you in the past weeks happen to be you texting someone. You and Taemin are similar when it comes to phones, so it’s an odd sight for me.”

“What are you doing out here, hyung?”

“I’m waiting for a family to arrive and thought I’d get some fresh air while I’m at it.” Jinki glanced skyward. “I haven’t had a peaceful time by myself like this in so long.”

“I should let you savor it in peace, then,” Jongin said, not wanting to intrude on his private time. “I’ll go ahead now, hyung. Rest when you can.”

“Stay warm and dry, Jongin. You’ve just recovered from being sick,” Jinki cautioned. “It’s been raining heavily these past few days, too. I hope you’ve packed an umbrella.”

“I will. Thanks, hyung. Sleep when you can or I’ll tell Taemin you’re living on power naps.”

Jongin waved goodbye to a laughing Jinki. He sent Minseok a reply and received an address for a noraebang in Sinchon before his phone completely died on him.

Minseok’s friends had taken a great liking to him and had wanted to do things together since forever. Jongin thought it was high time, anyway, after he’d turned down several invites due to working overtime or incompatible schedules. He’d also fallen sick after the three-day seminar he’d attended with Jinki and other co-workers, so he favored hibernating over socializing.

“Jongin!” Baekhyun’s boisterous greeting reached his ears upon arrival. He held a microphone in one hand and waved about a tambourine with another. “You’ve finally graced us with your presence again! I was beginning to think Captain didn’t want us hanging out with you.”

On the couch sat Jongdae browsing the song catalog and Minseok punching in the song numbers on the controller. Jongin occupied the vacant space next to Minseok and hooked his chin on his shoulder. Minseok handed the controller to Jongdae then twisted his body so he could smooth away the wayward fringe from Jongin’s forehead.

“Are you sure you’re okay hanging out with us? Are you tired? Sleepy?”

“I’m fine.” Jongin’s eyes fluttered close, leaning into Minseok’s touch.

They’d improved by miles with the casual touching thanks to their “dates.” Holding hands and sticking close to each other became second nature to them now, as well as tiny gestures of affection. Though the contact often didn’t last long, Jongin savored each encounter, even if they left him wanting more.

Baekhyun clucked into the microphone in mock disapproval, the sound capturing everyone’s attention. “Won’t you extend us the same concern, Captain?”

Minseok feigned contemplation and shook his head. “You can take care of yourselves. Let me take care of Jongin.” His unrepentant smile magnified the cheekiness of his statement.

Not even Baekhyun and Jongdae’s combined crowing could drown out the sound of Jongin’s heartbeat pounding in his ears.

Jongdae threw a judgmental stare Minseok’s way. “I see; so this is how it is. You can forget about your friends but you readily pamper your boyfriend. Were you always this level of callous and gross?”

Jongin flipped through the pages of the song catalog with idle interest. He wasn’t the singing type, despite the rare occasions of holding a one-man concert in the shower; he preferred listening to others by far, but he deemed it was only polite to sing at least one song. He reached for the controller and noticed the duffel bags dumped on the corner.

“We hit the gym before coming here,” Minseok answered the unspoken question. “We’re required to stay in shape, and it’s a way to relieve stress.”

“Do you work out?” Jongdae asked.

“No.” Jongin sounded shy in his admittance. “My form of exercise in the recent years is walking my dog. Sometimes it’s dancing, but I haven’t found time to hit my friend’s dance studio as of late.”

“You dance?” Baekhyun’s eyes sparkled with interest. “Why didn’t you say so from the start? What do you think of dancing while I sing? Jongdae normally volunteers, but his sexy dancing turns into a comedy show—”

“Excuse me? Like you’re better than me?” Jongdae sniped, followed by a huff. “Tell you what: let’s take turns dancing to Sunmi’s _24 Hours_ and let Jongin be the judge on who’s the better dancer.”

“Oh, you’re on.” Baekhyun rolled up the sleeves of his in a show of accepting the challenge.

Jongin muffled his laughter into Minseok’s shoulder watching Baekhyun and Jongdae’s antics. Minseok chuckled on occasion but was mostly relaxed, used to his friends’ shenanigans, his fingers tapping along to the rhythm of the songs on Jongin’s thigh. Baekhyun and Jongdae eventually forgot they were supposed to be competing on who danced better as the minutes wore on, now more focused on singing and livening up the atmosphere.

Jongdae took on Park Hyoshin’s _Drunken Confession_ as a reprieve from upbeat songs. Minseok challenged Jo Sungmo’s _Do You Know_. No sooner had Jongin vacated his place at his turn did Baekhyun invade it.

“You won’t mind if I sit beside the captain, will you?” Baekhyun asked with an impish smile, resting his head on Minseok’s shoulder.

Minseok gave Baekhyun’s forehead a playful push away. “Get off, you rascal.”

“Is your shoulder Kim Jongin exclusive now?” Baekhyun retorted, pounding Minseok’s chest with his fist in jest.

“It is; so go look for other shoulders to lean on.”

Three pairs of eyes landed on Jongin.

Flustered at thinking aloud, Jongin recovered quick and said, like it wasn’t a big deal, “I _am_ the boyfriend. His shoulders are mine.”

Baekhyun and Jongdae whooped so loud their combined noise reverberated in the room. Minseok stuck a finger in his ear at the volume of their voices but didn’t look miffed. Jongin reeled from the bravado of his unexpected act, but seeing the pleased expression on Minseok’s face assured him he’d done a good job of coming off convincing.

Two hours at the noraebang worked up everyone’s appetite, evident in the stacked-up _samgyupsal_ platters they inhaled in one sitting. A torrential downpour started in the middle of dinner and didn’t let up even when they exited the establishment. It took half an hour before the rain’s intensity decreased; by then, Baekhyun and Jongdae had left ahead of them in the guise of giving them “couple time,” complete with devilish looks on their faces they didn’t bother concealing.

“I’m getting coffee, but if you want to head on home—”

“Let’s go,” Jongin interrupted, not allowing him to finish. “I want to spend more time with you.”

Surprise lit up Minseok’s features but soon gave way to something more unreadable. Jongin wondered if he sounded too eager, but Minseok’s assurance came in taking his hand and searched for a good place.

Jongin cupped his hands around the mug of hot chocolate to absorb the heat. He watched Minseok sip on his coffee opposite of him from under his lashes as they sat warm and cozy in the café, thinking how easy he could picture this exact scene happening in the kitchen of their own home ten years from now.

An employee served them a saucer of strawberry shortcake. Jongin and Minseok exchanged surprised, puzzled looks.

“There must be some mistake,” Minseok spoke up. “We didn’t order cake.”

“It’s on the house. It’s our café’s gimmick,” the employee explained. “We call it happy couple time. We serve free cake to couples within a chosen hour; today, it runs from nine to ten. We don’t have a fixed schedule or announce ahead of time to avoid fiascos and give everyone a chance.”

“I wasn’t aware of such gimmicks,” Minseok said, after the employee left.

Jongin’s eyes swept across the room. Several tables had the same cake to share between couples. In fact, all the customers in the café were couples. How could they have missed this? He bit his lower lip, mulling over his next set of words.

“Does this mean we come off as a couple if they gave us cake?”

Minseok wiped the fork with a napkin. “It also means our efforts in faking it are paying off.”

Jongin concentrated on the sourness of the strawberry he bit into instead of the pain lancing through his chest.

“We should further convince them we’re a couple since it makes for great practice,” Minseok said, holding out a piece of cake to him.

They took turns feeding each other, but the act did nothing to offset the throbbing ache.

They intended to stay until the rain let up. It never did. The downpour maintained its ferocity beyond the café’s closing time. They stood under the awning and watched the endless amount of rain fall from the sky. The steady dwindle of vehicles on the roads and people walking in the sidewalks created an eerie atmosphere akin to thrillers and horror films.

Jongin didn’t regret spending more time with Minseok, even if it meant getting stuck in this weather; he just wished he’d worn something thicker or brought a jacket with him. The long sleeves of his shirt protected him from the cold, but prolonged standing outdoors already made gooseflesh rise on his skin.

Jongin shivered and pressed close to Minseok, clutching onto his arm and hoped he wouldn’t mind. Minseok didn’t move away, but he gave him an once-over.

“You’re cold.” Minseok held his hands in his and brought it close to his lips, blowing air on them to warm them up. Concern flashed in his eyes. “We can’t stay out here for long, but our options are a bit limited.”

The nearest subway was a thirty-minute walk. The bus stop was nearer, but no buses have passed since the café closed. Jongin was usually a risk-taker where rain was concerned, but even he knew better than to brave through this kind of rainfall. Calling a cab was their final option. Luck didn’t side with them as Minseok’s phone died on him before the line could connect.

“We have to move somewhere else. I don’t want you cold any more than you already are,” Minseok stated, frowning at the forming tinge of purplish blue on Jongin’s nails. “Here’s what we’ll do: I’ll look for a place we can stay in and come back for you. I’m not too familiar with this area, so it might take me a while before I can find something. I don’t want to leave you here, but I don’t want you getting sick again. Do you trust me?”

The utmost seriousness in Minseok’s voice moved Jongin, guaranteeing he was in good hands. Stripped of sufficient words to convey his reply, he nodded, instead.

Minseok smiled. “Great. I promise I’ll come back as soon as I can.” He procured an umbrella from his duffel bag and handed Jongin a jacket. “We’re not the same size, but you can use it to keep you warm until I return.”

Jongin draped it over his shoulders and caught Minseok’s wrist before he could take off. “Come back safe, hyung.”

Minseok reached up and ruffled his hair affectionately. “I will.”

A wave of sadness washed over him watching Minseok’s retreating figure—and smacked his forehead for his ridiculousness.

It wasn’t a permanent goodbye, and yet Jongin couldn’t help wishing he’d argued with Minseok that he was fine; that as long as he had an umbrella over his head, he wouldn’t get sick again. But it wasn’t like Minseok had made an unreasonable decision. He could only trust in him now, wrapping himself up in his jacket and seeking comfort in Minseok’s scent.

A drenched Minseok returned half an hour later. With him he brought good news of having found a place.

Jongin couldn’t have been more relieved. “Great! Let’s go.”

The mildest hint of hesitation flashed across Minseok’s face. “It’s the only place I could find. Please don’t judge me for it.”

Jongin blinked at him in confusion. “It can’t be _that_ bad.”

The nervous tremble in Minseok’s smile doubled his confusion.

Said confusion cleared as he stared at the flashing neon lights adorning the signboard of the love motel Minseok had brought him to.

Even better when Jongin opened the door of the room Minseok had reserved and a wall-sized painting of Pororo welcomed them.

Jongin wasn’t one to judge people’s kinks or what turned them on; but he had to wonder if this was a special request by customers or the management’s idea of a unique themed room.

“Um. Wow.” Jongin slipped his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. “Pororo apparently gets some people off, who knew?” He tacked on a chuckle to show he was lightening the mood.

Minseok exhaled a huge sigh of relief. “Thank god you didn’t find it freaky. You were so quiet the entire journey up here I thought I’d messed up.”

“It can’t be helped if it’s the only room left. It sure beats staying outside,” Jongin said, looking around some more. “Sorry if I made you nervous. I think I’m more surprised by the revelation that people can sin without a care while they’re surrounded by Pororo’s friends frolicking across a field of flowers.”

“At least it’s not Hello Kitty.” Minseok put down his duffel bag beside the couch and rummaged its contents.

“You don’t like Hello Kitty?”

Minseok scrunched up his nose. “I don’t like cats, fictional and otherwise.”

Jongin filed away this information for future reference. “Just curious, have you ever rescued any cats on duty?”

“It’s how I met my ex.”

_Ouch._

Okay, Jongin didn’t expect the casual confession. Of course Minseok would have had past relationships, too. Why had he thought otherwise? His sadness over the fact surprised him, but not more than the spike of jealousy, even if he had no right to feel this way.

A beat of silence passed before Minseok spoke again.

“I met him on my third year as a firefighter. We started bonding via the local soccer group that played on weekends. We hit it off as friends; got together much later. Things came to an end, eventually, but we parted on good terms and have stayed friends.”

Jongin could only nod his head in response.

Minseok studied him for a moment. “I told you because you looked like you wanted to know.”

“N-not really.”

Jongin mentally kicked himself for the stammering and the immediate denial.

Minseok shot him a playful, disbelieving look. “Your face says it all, sometimes.”

“Hyung, you should go shower. You’ll catch a cold if you stay in your wet clothes any longer.”

Minseok lifted an eyebrow at the obvious diversion tactic, but the amused smirk stayed even as he left for the bathroom.

Jongin was grateful for the small mercy of the bathroom having none of those glass walls like in other love motels or he’d have expired. He grabbed the remote from the nightstand and caught a mop of white on the floor. Jongin retrieved it. Minseok’s clean shirt. He must’ve dropped it on the way to the bathroom.

He knocked twice on the door. “Hyung? Are you decent? You dropped your shirt.”

“Really? Oh, you’re right,” came Minseok’s muffled response from the other side. The knob unlocked not long after. “You can hang the shirt on the hook at the back of the door.”

Jongin followed his instructions, opening the door with caution the same way he slipped half his body inside to look for said hook.

Except his traitorous eyes caught the slightest movement, making him turn his head and his eyes enlarge at Minseok clad in his boxers and in the process of removing his shirt. Time seemed to move slower in this particular moment. Jongin’s logic scolded him for staying rooted in his spot as he watched the way Minseok’s back muscles flexed from his movements, swallowing hard as the shirt rode up; high, higher—

—and gasped at the knotted scar tissue marring the skin across his back.

A telling battle scar with a history Jongin was curious about—so curious he couldn’t stop staring, not until Minseok broke his trance with a call of his name.

“Sorry! I-I didn’t mean to—!” Jongin scrambled for an excuse in vain, though he couldn’t look away in spite of the voice in his head screaming he should.

“Don’t be,” Minseok reassured, and he meant it.

Jongin couldn’t stop wondering about the story behind the scar while waiting for Minseok to finish showering. Not even the pay-per-view channels took his mind off of it, or splashing his face with cold water when it was his turn to freshen up. He was so damn curious, but he wasn’t sure how far he could push the boundaries. They were, at the core of it all, still fake boyfriends. Jongin had no right prying in private spaces of Minseok’s life he should be sharing with a partner he trusted and was committed to in a real relationship.

The thought depressed Jongin more than it should.

He hadn’t been too drenched, unlike Minseok, with the exception of the soaked cuffs of his jeans. He had no issue sleeping in just his boxers, though he was mildly concerned with his shirt. He sniffed at his armpits and every inch his nose could reach, relieved he could still smell the hint of fabric conditioner on it among the cocktail of scents.

Minseok was sitting cross-legged on the bed when he emerged from the bathroom, clad in fresh clothing and watching a movie. He mentioned in passing how he liked being prepared during workout sessions, explaininng his emergency supply of clothes in his duffel bag. A towel was slung around Minseok’s neck; in his hand, a can of beer. Jongin tentatively sat on the edge of the bed, still smelling parts of his shirt.

“Why do you keep doing that? Smelling your shirt, I mean.”

“Do I never smell funny or strange to you?”

Minseok looked taken aback by the question, but it didn’t last. “One time you sort of smelled like Monggu, but it wasn’t bad. Why?”

Jongin quashed his self-consciousness for the sake of pushing through. “It’s kind of silly, but a year ago, a little boy in the subway asked me why I smelled weird. He asked so innocently I couldn’t find it in me to be angry.”

Long hours of embalming meant the scent of the process clung to him, often leaving work reeking of formaldehyde and cavity fluid. It hadn’t been an issue for him, accepting this as part of the job and the fact not everyone would find the smell pleasant. Not until the encounter with the little boy, anyway.

Minseok reached out for his wrist and tugged forward so Jongin was forced to clamber on the bed and sit beside him. Jongin tensed when Minseok sniffed both sides of his neck before venturing to his chest.

“You smell like samgyupsal grease, hot chocolate, the motel soap, and a bit like the rain. I’ll live.” Minseok pulled away with a grin. “I’ve smelled far worse things. Embalming fluid doesn’t and won’t scare me. Now come, sit closer. This bed is big enough for both of us.”

Jongin wasn’t convinced. “Does it really not bother you?”

Minseok pinched his cheeks.

Jongin yelped. “ _Hyung!_ What gives?”

Minseok laughed but soothed his cheeks by rubbing his palms on them. “I’ll pinch harder the next time you worry about trifle things again. Feelings are not quantified by how good or bad you smell.”

They watched the remainder of the movie in comfortable silence. They sat close together, the slightest of movements allowing their shoulders and knees to brush against each other. Each time it happened, Jongin would be struck by a jolt of awareness. If Minseok felt the same, he didn’t show it. Even so, neither of them inched away.

The next scene showed the detectives talking to the coroner.

“Why did you choose to be an embalmer?” Minseok asked.

“It wasn’t my first choice for a career,” Jongin admitted. “It happened by accident, I guess you could say. I originally wanted to be a dancer. I thought my heart was set on a life of dancing, but meeting a best friend’s older brother swayed me.

“I didn’t believe my best friend when he told me what his brother was taking up in college. If you saw him now, you wouldn’t believe he’s a funeral director. He has the gentlest face I’ve seen in my life. So I searched up on embalming and found it a fascinating world.”

“Was your family supportive of your decision?”

“My dad was okay with it, surprisingly. He said he’ll be happy with whatever I wanted to do as long as I liked it. My mom had more reservations, but she understood in the end. They’re really chill parents.” Jongin smiled at the mention of them.

Minseok nodded with a smile of his own. “I wanted to be plenty of things when I was a kid. I only decided on becoming a firefighter when our house burned down.”

Jongin gaped.

Minseok hurried to add, “My family and I survived, but we lost everything in the fire. So did our other neighbors who were affected, too. And that’s when I thought, I didn’t want anyone else losing anything or experiencing a fire, so I aimed to be a firefighter. My mother was against it, fearing for my safety. It took a few years before she could accept that I wouldn’t change my mind. My father was more understanding.”

The rest of the movie flashed by; later, the credits began rolling. It meant retiring for the night, which entailed sharing a bed, but Jongin would be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous. Minseok wasn’t a stranger anymore; Jongin had stopped considering him as one, but it didn’t mean the reality of sleeping in the same space when he harbored feelings for him was any less easy to accept.

Minseok opened his mouth to speak, but Jongin beat him to it by asking, “You don’t mind sharing a bed with me, do you? But if you’re one of those types who can’t sleep with a stranger beside them—”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Minseok cut him off, frowning a bit. “This bed is big enough for the both of us. If you’re worried about _that_ , I promise you I won’t do anything inappropriate. I know it’s a game of trust, but I’m not the type to touch someone who isn’t interested and without their explicit permission.”

They placed the extra pillows between them as a makeshift border. It was childish, totally cliché, a scene right out the dramas Jongin’s sisters watched religiously, but Minseok insisted on it, intent on proving his trustworthiness.

Jongin leaned back into the pillows, lying wide awake on his side of the bed in the darkness of the room. The rain continued pouring outside, unyielding in its strength, but it couldn’t silence the loudness of his thoughts or calm his accelerated heartbeat. He wished sleep came easy in these situations, but no matter how long he closed his eyes, his mind refused to shut up about the fact that Minseok was technically just on the other side.

Frustrated, he folded his arms across his chest and talked himself into sleeping.

Jongin woke up hours later _not_ with his arms around what he thought was a pillow but with an armful of Minseok, instead.

His conscience scolded him to move away. His body betrayed him by inching closer.

Could he be blamed when Minseok radiated warmth like a furnace?

Minseok’s head was pillowed on his shoulder, an arm slung loosely across his waist. His lips were parted, and it took a full minute before he felt a damp patch on his shirt sleeve.

Minseok drooled in his sleep. Many considered it a turn off, but Jongin found he didn’t mind.

A mirthless laugh left Jongin. Too deep. He was in too deep.

Jongin strained his ears for noises from outside and heard none. Slices of sunlight slipped through the gap between the curtains. He had no idea what time it was, and he should really get up for work, but he didn’t care. For now, he’d indulge in this rare moment and forget about the world, even if it was just for a few hours.

For now, he’d close his eyes and allow sleep to whisk him away to a world where he could have this for the rest of his life.

 

 

☆彡

 

 

“You sneaky fucker! When did you get a boyfriend?”

A sudden weight pounced on Jongin from behind, limbs wrapping around his neck and waist. He would’ve fallen face first into the floor had he not gripped onto the back of the couch. He struggled a bit in balancing himself, making sure he wouldn’t drop the person hanging onto him.

“Hey, Taemin; nice to know you aren’t suffering from jetlag.” Jongin patted the arms around his neck.

“Not even jetlag will stop me from prying details out of you about the unfortunate soul you ensnared.”

Jongin laughed. He might not see it, but he could picture Taemin’s cheeky grin just fine. He piggybacked Taemin into the kitchen, where Sehun was cooking lunch for them.

“So who is he? I know nothing about this beau of yours,” Taemin said, holding onto the counter for balance when Jongin deposited him on a stool by the island. “Sehun won’t tell me anything, but your thirst for him is unreal.”

Jongin shot Taemin a weird look. His gaze slid over to Sehun. “What is he talking about?”

Sehun glanced at him before scooping fried rice into three bowls. “What do you think?” he asked, lips twitching in the effort of containing his amusement.

Taemin reached across the counter to steal a slice of sausage. “Videos don’t lie.”

Jongin narrowed his eyes at Sehun. “What video?”

Sehun said nothing and continued simpering.

A long-forgotten memory surfaced, not taking long before the pieces fell into place. Jongin’s jaw hung open in shock.

“What the fuck, you filmed me when I was drunk that time?”

Sehun finally released the laugh he’d been holding back. “It was too good an opportunity to pass up. Stop glaring at me; ten years from now, you’ll thank me for filming you. I can use it to cheer you up.”

“More like additional ammunition to embarrass you,” Taemin corrected. He attempted to steal another slice, but Sehun slapped his hand away. “Which, by the way, is something he totally picked up from me.”

“Of course,” Sehun agreed. “I’ve learned from the best.”

Jongin had no doubt Sehun did, seeing as Taemin started the trend in their college days. Taemin had filmed him when he had bawled his eyes out after winning the grand prize in a nationwide dancing competition they’d participated in. Jongin had been so overwhelmed he was moved to tears, but he couldn’t cry in peace when Taemin was adamant on shoving a camera in his face to preserve the moment. Karma bit Taemin in the ass when he had lost his phone, but it didn’t deter him from future attempts. Along the way, the bad habit had rubbed off on Sehun.

Taemin’s cheeky grin was back in place. “Come on, Jongin, I had the time of my life watching your constant heart eyes while drunkenly babbling about your boyfriend, but I need details.”

And details Jongin gave.

Taemin processed the information with a slow nod of the head. “You sure know how to attract the older ones.”

“ _That’s_ the only thing you got from my story?” Jongin asked, feigning offense but laughing, anyway.

“And your love for his abs.”

Taemin cackled as Jongin swatted at his shoulder.

“You won’t tell Taemin the truth?” Sehun asked, once Taemin was out of earshot to take a work-related call.

“I want to. He’s our best friend and I owe him that, at least; but I’ve thought it over, and I think it would be better if only one person knew of the real situation.” Jongin smiled at Sehun. “I’m more surprised you didn’t tell him anything.”

Sehun shrugged. “He’d be better off hearing it straight from you. Not my story to tell, anyway.” He ate the last of his food and set down his spoon. “Isn’t it about time you introduce your boyfriend to us? Better do it before Taemin flies overseas for another dance workshop.”

“I second the motion!” Taemin’s sudden shout of agreement startled them both. He sauntered back to his stool and bumped Jongin’s shoulder with his. “I want to know what my future brother-in-law looks like.”

They nagged him about it for the rest of his visit. Jongin took an entire night deciding if he should shoot Minseok a text or call him, but a better idea sprung up.

 _Or maybe not,_ he thought with plenty of regret, as his alarm jolted him awake at six in the morning.

He powered through the next hour with sheer willpower and the repeated mantra of not falling back asleep. It continued until he rode the subway and purchased the usual breakfast bagel and other sandwiches from his favorite deli shop. He wondered how Minseok would react to his impromptu visit on the walk to the fire station, and if he’d like the new deli items the owner recommended. Jongin hadn’t met anyone who liked bread so much, how adorable he looked munching on it—

“It’s too early for a meltdown,” Jongin reprimanded himself before he could complete the thought.

Minseok was heading inside the station when Jongin reached. He jogged up to him and blocked his path, effectively stopping Minseok and earning himself a surprised gasp of his name.

Jongin held out the bag of goodies to him. “My friends want to meet you, are you game?”

“Sure,” Minseok replied, blinking confused eyes at him. “Did you come all the way here to tell me that? You could’ve texted or called.” Amusement colored his words and reflected in his upturned mouth.

“I just wanted to see you.”

Surprise stole across Minseok’s face.

Jongin scrambled for a follow-up.

“Uh—well—boyfriends sometimes pop up in each other’s workplaces to surprise them, right? To make their days brighter, or encourage them if they’re having a hard time with their workload, right…?”

Even to Jongin’s ears it sounded like a poorly put-together excuse.

The longer they stood there in silence, the more Minseok’s expression became indecipherable.

“Too early for PDA, lovebirds!” Baekhyun’s shout dispelled some of the suffocating tension.

Minseok cracked a smile and retorted, “Stop being jealous and get your own boyfriend.”

“Shots fired!” Jongdae remarked, who had been trailing behind Baekhyun. He grabbed a laughing Baekhyun by the arm and dragged him along, bickering with him about why it wasn’t a good idea to meddle in other people’s love affairs.

Minseok shook his head in amusement and accepted the bag. He peeked inside and his face brightened upon seeing the contents. “Is everything for me?”

“If you want.” Jongin could’ve said more, but the mesmerizing smile Minseok directed his way stole the rest of his words.

“I’ll share with the rest, but the bagel and mocha bread are mine. I know you bought them especially for me.”

Jongin smiled but didn’t deny the claim.

“You look extra drowsy, so it’s best you go home and get more sleep.” Minseok ran the back of his hand down the side of Jongin’s face. “You’ll be well-rested by the time your shift starts in the afternoon.”

Jongin’s heart leaped at the affectionate gesture. It warmed him and catapulted him to cloud nine, but he wanted more than this. And it was a dangerous thing, to want more than what could be given. Greed had no place in this sort of arrangement, but how could Jongin stop feeding this monster if he himself couldn’t tame it?

“I have to go. The morning briefing won’t start without me. Sleep, okay?” Minseok gave Jongin’s cheek a gentle pat twice. “Thanks for the food. You don’t need a special reason to see your boyfriend. Visit whenever.”

Jongin could only watch Minseok walk away as he held the cheek he’d patted. He had no vivid recollection of his trip home except for the imprint of warmth from Minseok’s palm, and a fluttering in his chest knowing he’d brighten up his morning.

Plenty of discussions and delays from clashing schedules happened before they finally found a day everyone could meet up. They agreed on a takeout and movie night at Jongin’s apartment, for the sole reason his place was the nearest to everyone’s workplaces.

Jongin spent the day cleaning his apartment the best he could. He showered and grabbed the first shirt his fingers touched in the closet. He pulled it over his head, lifting the material to his nose before dropping it. He hadn’t completely broken the habit of smelling his clothes first before wearing them, but he slowly began caring less of what scents they emitted.

Taemin and Sehun arrived together a little past seven. Minseok showed up ten minutes later, genial smile not quite covering up the fatigue marring his face. Still, his eyes twinkled in a way that showed his enthusiasm and made Jongin’s heart skip a beat.

“I hope I’m not late?” Minseok asked, looking hopeful and, perhaps, a tad nervous.

Jongin told himself not to stare too much at Minseok’s bare arms on display thanks to his graphic muscle tee. The fabric stretched across his chest just right, and though Jongin already knew what lay beneath it (no) thanks to those calendar pictures, he stepped on the mental brakes before his mind could wander to abs territory and fuel his R-18 fantasies.

“You’re early, but no biggie. My friends are here already.”

Jongin led him into the living room. Sehun was setting up and Taemin was texting, but both of them looked up at their entrance. They wore identical grins during the introductions, but Jongin recognized the mischievous gleam in their eyes too well.

“ _Finally_ we meet Jongin’s infamous boyfriend,” Taemin said. They sat cross-legged on the floor and surrounded the small coffee table, the food conveniently placed in the center. The thick, heavenly scent of fast food wafted in the air. “I had plenty of images in my mind when Jongin said he was dating, but Minseok-ssi is actually good-looking.”

Minseok looked shy at the praise. “I hardly think so, but thank you.”

“You’re too good-looking for Jongin, actually,” Sehun joked with his signature poker face. The only giveaway of his true feelings was the mirth dancing in his eyes. “Based on the stories Jongin’s told us about you, you’re also too good for him.”

“You talk about me?” Minseok turned to look at Jongin, eyes widening and brimming with curiosity.

“You should see him when he does,” Sehun said, before Jongin could say anything. “He talks about you with hearts in his eyes.”

“He only gets that way with dogs and his niece.” Taemin laughed at Jongin’s lame attempt in shoving his shoulder. “What? It’s true. Okay, fine, you also get like that with people you thirst for.”

“Try dehydrated,” Sehun suggested.

Jongin’s cheeks flamed, helpless laughter seizing him.

“I asked him for a picture of you, but he wouldn’t show me any,” Taemin said, with a tiny pout. “I guess he has every reason to be wary. You’re very good-looking.”

Minseok chuckled, glancing Jongin’s way. “We don’t really take pictures when we’re together, but now you know I’m real.”

The only reason Jongin stalled was because he had zero pictures of Minseok in his phone. Neither of them had thought about taking pictures with or of each other, but they’d survived just fine—until Taemin had asked for a proof one day, and he had to take double precaution of his phone’s whereabouts. He might have had it secured with a password, but Taemin had his ways if determined.

Conversation and laughter dominated the meal, erasing the initial awkwardness brought by formalities. Taemin and Sehun always involved Minseok in the conversation and asked questions, especially ones regarding his occupation. They also teased Jongin every chance they could. Jongin griped when they did, but he laughed more than he took offense. Minseok would tease him, too, much to Taemin and Sehun’s delight and Jongin’s chagrin.

The living room couch could only fit three people, so Sehun and Taemin took a cushion each and lounged on the floor. The knowing glances thrown behind their shoulders and muffled snickers told Jongin they didn’t give him and Minseok more space out of the goodness of their hearts. With friends like them, Jongin would never need enemies in his life.

Jongin folded his legs close to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, immersing himself in the movie. On the most heart-wrenching scene, he caught movements from the corner of his eye. Taemin was running a hand up and down Sehun’s back. He was about to ask what was wrong when Sehun dabbed at his cheek with the heel of his palm. Taemin grinned, but instead of the usual teasing, he wiped away the stray tears for him.

“I don’t mean to pry, but are they…?” Minseok whispered, holding up both of his forefingers and sticking them together to finish his question.

“Yup. Surprised?” Jongin whispered back, eyes on the screen again.

“I had a feeling, but I didn’t want to jump to conclusions.”

“They’re quite the unusual pair,” Jongin said, smiling. “They’re the kind of couple who don’t look like they’re dating, but they are.”

“So the opposite of us: the kind of couple who look like we’re dating, but we’re not.”

Jongin’s smile slipped a notch but turned his head away before Minseok could notice.

They watched an action flick next to relieve them from the first film’s heavy sadness. Jongin was enjoying the fighting scenes but straightened up at the sudden weight on his shoulder.

Minseok mirrored his surprise. “Sorry; it’s been a tiring shift. I haven’t slept properly even when we returned to the station with the back-to-back emergencies” he said, sincere in his apology.

“Don’t be. Let me do something for you.” Jongin scooted over to the furthest end of the couch and patted his lap in invitation.

“You’ve seen me drool in my sleep. Not the most attractive sight.” Minseok’s lips twitched into a smile, even as he lay down and looked up at Jongin.

“Believe me, saliva isn’t the most disgusting body fluid I’ve handled,” Jongin said, carding his fingers through Minseok’s short hair.

A flicker of emotion flashed in Minseok’s eyes at the action, but he turned on his side to face the television before Jongin could register what it was. His hand remained tangled in his hair, stroking every now and then like it came second nature to him. His other hand rested lightly on Minseok’s bicep. He thought he heard Minseok sigh as he gradually relaxed from his ministrations.

By the near end of the movie, Minseok had fallen fast asleep, not even stirring from the loud explosions.

“Well, well; what do we have here?” Taemin’s amused voice entered Jongin’s ears. “And you were glaring daggers at us a few hours ago for giving you a chance to cuddle!”

“Shut up. Don’t think I didn’t see you enjoying Sehun’s closeness, too.”

“Leave me out of this.” Sehun stood up and stretched his arms above his head.

Taemin and Sehun saw themselves to the door after cleaning up. With nimble movements, Jongin replaced his lap with a cushion so he could procure a spare blanket from his room. He draped it over Minseok’s form, who didn’t even stir in the slightest. He couldn’t find it in him to disturb Minseok’s sleep, knowing how dead tired he was. The subway and buses have already stopped operations as it was well past midnight. He needn’t worry about his friends since Taemin drove to his place.

Jongin tucked his legs beneath him on the floor and folded his arms on what little space there was on the couch, resting his head sideways so he was looking at Minseok. The youthfulness of his face was undisputed, but he looked four years younger in slumber.

Sleep remained elusive for Jongin, so he might as well put his time to good use and study Minseok’s features up close: the thickness of his eyebrows, the shape of his eyes, the slope of his nose, the curve of his lips.

In some of Jongin’s daydreams—mostly while he was at work and talking to the bodies wasn’t cutting it—he’d imagine what sort of life he and Minseok could have if they had been dating for real. Maybe it would resemble their current setup, sans the second-guessing and pain every time they touched. Maybe Jongin could invade Minseok’s personal space with more freedom without constantly reminding himself it was just for show. Maybe after a year or two of dating, one of them would ask the other to move in with them, and it would always be an experience waking up to each other’s presence first thing in the morning as the scent of _doenjang jjigae_ spread across the apartment.

_Doenjang jjigae?_

Jongin’s eyes flew open, wincing at the soreness of his neck and calves from falling asleep at an odd angle. He ignored the screaming protests of his muscles and inhaled. His stomach rumbled in approval at the scent, but hunger wasn’t his main concern right now. He only knew of one person who could enter his apartment and cooked said dish during their visit.

“Jongin?” Minseok’s hoarse voice called out. He sat up and rubbed the remaining sleep out of his eyes. His hair stuck out in different directions, a track of dried drool on the side of his mouth, but Jongin still wanted to cuddle him even with all these imperfections.

“What time is it?” Minseok blinked his eyes. Sniffed. “Are you cooking?”

Jongin gasped and leaped to his feet.

A figure emerging from the kitchen stopped him and confirmed his suspicion.

“Mom,” Jongin said, with forced cheerfulness. “What are you doing here?”

“Do I need permission to see my own son if I miss him?” Mrs. Kim smiled as she approached. Her eyes strayed and landed on Minseok, surprise and curiosity lining her face. “Is he the boyfriend you told me about?”

“ _Mom!_ ” Jongin couldn’t help exclaiming in shock, cheeks heating up.

Mrs. Kim ignored his outburst and strolled up to Minseok, eyes rounding in amazement. “Oh, my; your boyfriend is quite the looker, isn’t he? Where did you find him, Jongin? How long were you going to keep him a secret from me?”

“It’s a great pleasure to finally meet you, Mrs. Kim. My name is Kim Minseok.” Minseok plastered on his trademark gummy smile and bowed politely. “I apologize for my current state of dress; we weren’t expecting you.”

Mrs. Kim gasped in pleasant surprise. “So polite! Honestly, Jongin, you must tell me everything! Forgive me for prying; I am just so curious about my son’s boyfriend. He hasn’t said anything else after he told me he had one.”

“Mom, couldn’t you have called before coming here?” Jongin asked, after Minseok excused himself to freshen up. “If you had told us in advance—”

“So it’s an ‘us’ now?” Mrs. Kim teased. “Will he be moving in with you any time soon?”

“ _No!_ ” Jongin regretted his outburst at his mother’s surprised face. “Sorry about that. We haven’t been dating long enough to consider it.”

Mrs. Kim slowly nodded her head. “I’m sorry if I dropped by unannounced—you know I’m used to doing that. I should reconsider now, as you also have someone else who frequently comes over, and I don’t want to intrude.”

Jongin drew his mother into his arms for a hug. “I don’t mind the surprise visits, Mom. I was just surprised with this one since I wasn’t sure how you’d react.”

Lunch was a pleasant affair despite the initial hiccups. Mrs. Kim asked questions and Minseok answered them the best he could. The mention of his occupation piqued Mrs. Kim’s interest, listening attentively to Minseok’s explanation of how he ended up sleeping over.

“My! A seventy-two-hour shift sounds so hectic, what with a dangerous occupation, to boot. It must’ve been exhausting responding to every emergency. I apologize on my son’s behalf that he lacks the sensibility to not let you sleep on the couch.”

Jongin almost choked on his rice. “Mom, that’s not true!”

Mrs. Kim shot him a stern glare. “I know what I saw when I arrived hours ago, young man. You should’ve let your boyfriend sleep on your bed.”

“I passed out on the couch; please don’t blame Jongin,” Minseok said in his defense, pairing it with a charming smile.

Mrs. Kim seemed appeased by that. “It must be hard on you to work long shifts. I’m quite fearful of fires myself; I’m always scared for the victims when I watch news about it. I’m glad there are people like you willing to ensure people’s safety.”

Minseok beamed. “Thank you, ma’am.”

Jongin cleared the table but paused to watch Minseok and his mother chatting animatedly about historical dramas while washing the dishes together (“Why didn’t you tell me sooner! Are you watching the currently-airing drama in SBS?”). Minseok did the scrubbing and soaping while his Mrs. Kim rinsed them. Watching them get along made Jongin’s chest swell in fondness.

They saw Mrs. Kim out the door. She pecked Jongin on the cheek and promised to see each other again soon.

“I like your mother. She reminds me of my own,” Minseok commented on their return inside.

“I think the feeling’s mutual. She’s never interacted this much with anyone I’ve introduced to her,” Jongin commented. “She’s liked some of the people I’ve been with in the past, but her eyes were lighting up in a way I’ve never seen before when she talked to you.”

“Does that mean I’ve gained her approval?” Though his tone was casual and somewhat teasing, the hopeful light in Minseok’s eyes hinted at his uncertainty—whether for his performance as a fake boyfriend or something else he couldn’t label, Jongin wasn’t sure.

“She hasn’t raised her eyebrows once during her stay. It’s a good sign.”

Minseok nodded; slow, measured. “That’s assuring to hear. It means we’re getting better at this whole fake boyfriends thing.”

Jongin’s chest tightened at his words.

“Yeah. I guess we are.”

 

 

☆彡

 

 

Jongin received texts and calls from his sisters in the following days, asking him to introduce them to Minseok. Apparently, their mother had nothing but good words to say about him, heightening their interest, so they cajoled him into bringing him over the next weekend.

“What’s the problem?” Sehun asked. “Isn’t this what you both signed up for?”

Jongin heard the rustling of papers over the line in his silence. Sehun was probably rifling through building plans. “It is, but… I don’t know; I’m not sure about introducing him to the rest of my family.”

“You had no problem introducing him to us, and we’re your best friends,” Sehun pointed out lightly.

“You’re both important people to me, and I don’t just introduce anyone to you. But family… it’s different. You know that.”

Jongin loved and valued his family a lot. Introducing someone to them signified his seriousness toward the person and their relationship. He had never dated anyone he wasn’t serious about, but he also had to make sure the person was someone he would want his family to meet. His family had always shown acceptance toward people he’d introduced in the past; he had no doubt they would adore Minseok, too, but he would’ve wanted it to be under different circumstances—like being real lovers, for instance.

“See, this is what I was worried about,” Sehun chastised but lacked the heat it should carry. More rustling was heard from his side, followed by a sigh. “It’s not too late to turn your fake relationship into a real one.”

Jongin worried his bottom lip between his teeth. From the first day he’d already been certain of his feelings, though he’d terribly underestimated how much they’d grown and his lack of control over them. The question was if Minseok felt the same.

It pained him to admit this, but he probably wasn’t far off from the truth that everything was just pretend to Minseok, though there were times Jongin thought he saw a glimpse of more in the way they touched, the way his gaze lingered on him when he thought he wasn’t looking, or how he took care of him.

Or maybe that was Jongin’s fantastical interpretation of his reactions to fit his narrative and give him hope, as a way to repair his chipping heart.

“Stop thinking too much.” Sehun’s voice snapped him out of his reverie. “If you like him, tell him. Stop despairing over what his probable reaction would be—ah, ah, don’t argue with me; you’re the type who thinks of the worst case scenario before you execute your plans. You will only know his real feelings if you tell him the truth.”

Jongin chuckled, despite the strong need to scoff. “You’re right. Thanks. Excuse you, though, I am not ‘despairing.’”

Sehun clucked his tongue, but Jongin knew he was pleased. “Yeah, whatever, now get back to work and let me modify my building plans in peace.”

The weekend rolled by faster than expected. Soon enough, Jongin found himself standing inside a Paris Baguette, helping Minseok choose a cake to bring over.

“I like this one.” Jongin pointed to a fondant cake with pink icing on display.

Minseok looked at the cake in question and smirked. “It’s because of the strawberries on top, isn’t it?”

Jongin chuckled but didn’t deny it. “My family likes cake, but nothing beats a cake with strawberries.”

Minseok shot him a knowing glance. “You’re cute if you think I don’t know what you’re trying to do.”

They walked out the establishment with a box of strawberry fresh cream cake in the end. Jongin couldn’t restrain his grin even if he tried.

The good feeling lasted until they arrived at the apartment complex. Jongin clenched and unclenched his hands during the elevator ride up, wondering how his other family members would react. Would they see right through their act? Would his mother sense something fishy?

Minseok slotted their fingers together. “Nervous?”

Jongin nodded, incapable of speech right now.

“We’ll make it. I’m here for you.” Minseok squeezed his hand in assurance.

Jongin squeezed back.

Mrs. Kim broke out into a huge smile the moment she opened the door. She pecked Jongin on both cheeks and graciously accepted the cake box Minseok offered. She herded them into the living room, asking if they wanted anything to drink or eat.

Jungah had been watching a drama rerun but abandoned it in favor of entertaining them. She moved to the single couch for a better look and engaged them in conversation; mostly with Minseok, whom she asked a variety of questions about. Jongin watched the exchange, noting with interest how Jungah seemed charmed by Minseok the more they talked.

Jongin heard the sound of scampering footsteps drawing close, confirmed by Monggu darting past the entryway. He hadn’t had plenty of chances to visit home in the past weeks due to work and realized how much he’d missed Monggu now that he’d seen him again. He slipped from the couch and knelt on the floor, holding out his arms in welcome.

Monggu bounded past him and approached Minseok, pawing at his legs for attention.

Minseok stroked Monggu’s nape, followed by his shoulders and chest. “Hey, Monggu; it’s nice to see you, too.” He laughed when Monggu leaped into his lap and licked his face several times.

The fondness overpowered the betrayal of being ignored as Jongin watched Minseok and Monggu bond.

“Amazing—Monggu only greets family members like that,” Jungah said, awestruck. “He must take a great liking to you if you can get him this excited, Minseok-ssi.”

“Today’s not the first time they’ve met,” Jongin told her, and filled her in on the story.

“You’ve met him months ago and never told me?” Jungah complained, shoving him lightly on the shoulder.

“I didn’t expect this turnout, too!” Jongin answered with a pout, feeling wronged. “It just happened!”

He also didn’t expect a lot of things, like nursing a crush and masquerading as boyfriends, but Jungah didn’t need to know that.

Minseok and Jungah’s common interest of working out triggered a total immersion into the topic. Majority of their talk was lost on Jongin, who sat listening to them in silence and gradually feeling left out. Deciding to put his time to better use, Jongin attacked the plate of apple slices his mother had brought in earlier.

He perked up when Mrs. Kim called for Jungah in the kitchen. Jungah looked a little annoyed her conversation with Minseok had been interrupted, but it didn’t stop her from sending a knowing smirk at Jongin as she left.

“My sister can get pretty intense about workout talk. She doesn’t get many chances to talk about it because none of us understand what she’s talking about.” Jongin held an apple slice to Minseok’s mouth.

Minseok took a bite. “I enjoyed talking to her.” He petted Monggu, whose head was resting on his thigh and eyes trained on the television. “I don’t think you enjoyed listening to us, though.”

“What?” Jongin almost dropped the second apple slice he planned to feed Minseok.

“You think I haven’t noticed your chomping on those apples like they’ve personally offended you?”

Jongin couldn’t come up with a foolproof excuse. “Am I that obvious?”

The playful twist of Minseok’s mouth served as answer.

Jongin’s forehead fell to Minseok’s shoulder, whining in embarrassment.

“Jungah, have you seen my glasses?”

Jongin had never straightened up so fast in his life.

A man somewhere between his forties and fifties entered the living room in search of said item but stopped at the sight of Jongin and Minseok. A curious, questioning look crossed his face, followed by recognition and a polite smile.

“Dad.” Jongin bowed as his father neared them.

Minseok got on his feet, bowing respectfully and smiling in the same vein.

Mr. Kim’s smile grew, dipping his head once in acknowledgement. “Your mother mentioned having invited your boyfriend over—Kim Minseok, was it?”

Minseok nodded. “Yes, sir, that would be me.”

Mr. Kim motioned for Minseok to resume his seat. “I’m pleased to meet you. My wife has spoken highly of you. I look forward to our conversations about period dramas.”

Whatever apprehension Jongin initially harbored about Minseok meeting his father vanished with those few words. His father wasn’t the type who wanted absolute control over his children’s choices, significant others included. If he didn’t approve of his and sisters’ partners, he’d explain calmly instead of letting his temper explode and forcing them to break up.

The way things had played out, it seemed like Jongin had worried over nothing. He could breathe easier now. His father might change his mind later on, but he took this direction as a positive sign.

The shrill beep of the door unlocking resounded in the hall. Mr. Kim walked out into the foyer to check. A combination of jolly voices and light footsteps. A small voice calling out, “Uncle Jongin?”

Jongin broke out into the widest grin he’d worn today. “Rahee!” He rushed forward and scooped her into his arms, smothering her cheeks with kisses.

Rahee shrieked with glee and planted big, wet kisses on his face wherever her lips landed.

“Uncle hasn’t seen you in a long time. Did you grow? You’ve become prettier, too.” Jongin couldn’t stop gushing over Rahee he’d almost forgotten about Minseok. He turned around with the intention of introducing them, but the stunned look on Minseok’s face stopped him.

“Hyung?” Jongin called out, uncertain, confused.

“Uncle!” Rahee gurgled, extending her short arms toward Minseok.

Minseok shook out of his daze, eyes focused on Rahee who was still waiting for him to carry her.

“Rahee, do you know him? Why are you calling him—hey, careful now, don’t move too much.” Jongin adjusted his hold on Rahee, who squirmed and seemed intent on wanting Minseok to carry her.

“Jongin, is Rahee with you?” Jongin heard Junhee’s voice before he saw her.

Five footsteps into the living room, and the smile Junhee wore at having seen her daughter disappeared when her eyes wandered over to Minseok.

Minseok bowed toward Junhee, his surprise giving way to a gentle smile. “I didn’t expect to meet you here, noona.”

Junhee reciprocated, pleasant laughter leaving her. “I’m just as surprised. My mother told me Jongin would be introducing his boyfriend. I never expected it to be you. It’s a small world.”

A thousand questions raced through Jongin’s mind. “What’s going on? How come you two know each other?”

Jongin expected a lot of different answers, but not Junhee’s revelation:

“Remember when our old apartment complex burned to the ground? Minseok was the firefighter who saved Rahee.”

Jongin remembered. He would never forget the call he had received at three in the morning from his distressed mother who told him of Junhee’s situation. He would never forget stumbling out of his apartment in his haste, uncaring of how he had looked as he rushed down the streets in search of a cab. He would never forget arriving at the scene, finding the once pristine white building had been consumed by angry orange flames.

He would never forget the fear that had flooded his body when EMTs declared Rahee in a critical state and the overpowering relief when the doctors saved her after a maddening waiting game in the ER. Their mother had broken down knowing her grandchild was out of harm’s way before fainting from the stress.

Junhee had told them she would like to thank the firefighter who risked their life for Rahee. She’d met the firefighter months after the incident. Although Jongin had been curious, he didn’t delve more into it after Junhee’s passing mention and eventually forgot.

Now, Jongin found his answer.

Rahee wriggled in Jongin’s hold until he had no choice but to put her down. She ambled toward Minseok, tiny arms outstretched.

Minseok met her halfway and carried her into his arms. Rahee kissed him on the cheek and giggled.

The smile Minseok wore was like no other. Jongin’s heart swelled with renewed adoration beyond the brim.

It continued swelling at the image of a future involving Minseok and two children playing house with the use of stacked cushions and other kid-friendly items, numerous toys strewn across the floor. Jongin would join in and they’d play the weekend afternoon away until they fell asleep—all four of them, the picture of a happy, contented family.

His family couldn’t stop talking about the grand reveal over the dinner table. Mrs. Kim was especially ecstatic about the news; she treated Minseok like he was a legit part of the family already by making sure he always had food on his plate and asking if he wanted anything else.

“Had I known earlier and if you weren’t a couple yet, I would’ve tried setting you up on a blind date with Jongin!” Mrs. Kim’s eyes glimmered in excitement akin to a high school girl intent on matchmaking her friends.

“Mom, can you not?” Jongin complained, feeling the tips of his ears heat up.

“Oh, don’t act so embarrassed,” Jungah chimed across of them. “Minseok-ssi is too good for someone like you.”

“Actually, it’s Jongin who’s too good for me,” Minseok spoke up, successfully grabbing everyone’s attention. Red tinted his cheeks from the sudden focus on him. “I don’t know what I did to deserve someone as amazing as him, but I’m grateful I’ve met him and have him in my life.”

Jongin’s breath caught in his throat at the loving look Minseok sent his way; a look conveying warmth and affection in immeasurable volumes.

For a fraction of a moment, he could pretend what Minseok was telling him and everyone was true.

“Ah, to be in love at your age.” Mr. Kim laughed good-naturedly. “I won’t have to worry about Jongin with someone like you by his side. It put me at ease knowing he’s in good hands.”

“Thank you so much for trusting me,” Minseok said, bowing his head in respect.

Before long, Jongin was slipping on his jacket in the foyer as it was time to leave. Minseok was held up by Mrs. Kim and Jungah, who were trying to extract a promise from him to visit again. Rahee was in Minseok’s arms, tiny hands mapping at his face in wonder. Even Monggu wanted in on the action, sitting by Minseok’s feet and looking upward in hopes of snatching his attention.

Junhee approached Jongin and fixed his jacket collar. “I can tell you love each other a lot.”

Jongin’s eyes widened, but no words left his mouth.

Junhee ran her hands along the length of his shoulders and held onto them, smile never wavering. ”You’re good for each other. A person like Minseok is hard to come by. Don’t ever let him go, all right?”

What could Jongin possibly say in reply? If he denied it, Junhee might get suspicious, and he couldn’t afford that.

“Is it safe to assume your family likes me?” Minseok asked on their walk down the bus stop, holding hands as usual.

“‘Like’ is an understatement, hyung—they freaking love you,” Jongin corrected.

A look of delight crossed Minseok’s face. “Your family is wonderful, Jongin. You’re very lucky to have them. Spending time with them has made me miss my own family. I should pay them a visit when I’m free. I’ll take you to meet them.”

Jongin’s ears perked up at the same time his heart skipped two beats. Minseok probably meant that as an off-comment, or said it out of politeness. Either way, he didn’t want to think too deeply about it, but he also didn’t know how to reply and so kept quiet.

Minseok didn’t seem to find his silence troubling as he wondered aloud, “Who would’ve thought the Junhee-noona I know as the mother of the child I rescued would turn out to be your sister?”

The mention sparked remembrance. ”How did you rescue Rahee?”

“The fire had grown too big for the first station to handle alone. They requested backup from the three other stations within the district. Reports of a baby trapped in a nursery came in, but most of the firefighters were losing hope in rescuing her. The smoke had become too thick, and the chances of it thinning had rapidly slimmed. I thought that wasn’t right, so I searched for her myself.”

“Is that why you have the scars on your back? Did you get them saving Rahee?” Jongin’s voice lowered in volume the more he spoke, unsure about intruding on too personal territory without permission.

But Minseok didn’t reprimand or snap at him. He maintained his smile and tightened his hold on his hand. “I wasn’t on duty when the fire happened, but I was in the area visiting a friend. Allowing frustration to reign over me was a lapse in judgment on my part, I admit. They acted like the situation was hopeless, and I couldn’t stand that. Foregoing turnout gear was another. No matter how frustrated I was, I should’ve grabbed a coat at the least. Thankfully, the burn damage wasn’t too bad.

“I never once resented having my scars. It’s proof of what I’ve done. I’m not shy about it even if someone sees. At the same time, I understand it’s something not everyone would like seeing, so good thing they’re on my back. Easy to cover up. I’m not ashamed of it, though. Never have.”

Jongin couldn’t help smiling at the amount of confidence and self-assurance Minseok carried. “I wouldn’t have you any other way,” he confessed. “I like you as you are.”

A myriad of emotions swirled in Minseok’s eyes as their gazes met and held, the light from the nearby street lamp casting a soft glow over his face.

“Do you really mean that?”

Minseok’s voice was soft, but it was loud enough for Jongin to hear. Loud enough to catch the many implications of that single sentence alone, narrowed down to two choices that could— _would_ —greatly affect the state of their relationship.

Minseok didn’t wait for him to answer and shook his head with a wry-looking smile. “You can’t say things like that so carelessly.”

Jongin couldn’t decipher if the comment was nonsensical mumbling or a reprimand, but it didn’t mean it hurt any less.

Still, he wanted to know: “What do you mean?”

He wanted to know, even if the answer could smart like a slap. He wanted to know, if there was even an infinitesimal chance he wasn’t the only one toeing lines.

Tension blanketed them in its suffocating embrace.

Minseok broke free from it with a decision.

“We should call it quits being each other’s fake boyfriends.”

The sentence knocked the wind out of Jongin’s lungs.

A bus dropped by and opened its doors for them. It drove away when neither moved.

“If it’s what you want, I’ll respect your decision.” Jongin applauded himself for the steadiness of his voice despite the sudden tightening of his throat. He allowed himself a chuckle, forcing himself to continue. “It’s high time we stopped since we’ve solved our problems. I do want to tell you something, though.”

Intrigue etched itself on Minseok’s face.

“I…” Jongin took a deep breath. His smile diminished, inch by inch. “We never really discussed what we should do if one of us started developing feelings while pretending. I’m aware it’s one of those unspoken rules that we can’t. Shouldn’t. Because it’s all a façade

“The thing is: I have.”

Scared he’d pull away before he could finish, Jongin held on tight to Minseok’s hand, searching his face for any sign of uneasiness. He found none. He did, however, find a question in Minseok’s eyes he couldn’t seem to vocalize, so he answered it for him.

“I haven’t been pretending during our times together, hyung. I haven’t been pretending in a long time. It began even before this happened. It might’ve been you who suggested the setup, but I saw it as a chance to get close to you. Maybe it was the wrong way to approach things, maybe I shouldn’t have been too opportunistic, but please believe me when I say it has never, _ever_ been pretend for me.”

Minseok’s sharp intake of breath set Jongin on edge. His brows furrowed and his mouth curved into a slight frown, but Minseok never withdrew his hand from his hold. Jongin desperately wanted to believe it meant something and clung onto it like a lifeline.

Minseok’s lips parted. Closed. Pressed into a thin line.

“This is the exact reason I wanted to stop pretending.”

Jongin’s heart plummeted to somewhere beneath the concrete, the crash deafening in his ears.

Had Minseok caught on to his feelings before this? Had he not been subtle enough during their charade? Memories from the times they spent together played on loop. Jongin scanned and dissected each of them for clues on what could have possibly given him away but found none.

Distraught, at a loss, submerged and drowning in his unstoppable yearning, Jongin struggled in vain for the right words as tears formed and burned his eyelids.

“I wanted to stop pretending because it was starting to feel real— _too real_ —and I wanted it so much it scared me.”

Jongin didn’t think it was possible for his heartbeat to flat-line and skyrocket in a span of two sentences.

The debris from his previous heartbreak started mending themselves back into place, though Jongin continued standing there rigid, wide-eyed, and slack-jawed.

With his free hand, Minseok reached to cup his face, the pad of his thumb caressing the apple of his cheek. The touch further confirmed it was neither a cruel prank nor a short-lived dream.

“It took some time coming to terms with my feelings outside of the pretending. I didn’t know if you felt the same way, and I was prepared for it to remain one-sided. At times I felt it wasn’t, but I didn’t want to be presumptuous. I might have hurt you with some of my words and actions, but would you let me make up it to you?”

Minseok’s gummy smile was still every inch of beautiful and heartwarming since the first day Jongin had seen it.

“If we’re not pretending anymore, what are we?” Jongin asked, corners of his mouth staying permanently lifted as he stepped a little closer. He already knew the answer, but a little teasing as payback for almost costing him ten years of his life wouldn’t hurt.

Minseok cocked his head, feigning deliberation. The subtle quirk of his lips made Jongin really want to kiss him.

“Monggu’s parents, what else?”

The maximal cheekiness caused Jongin to laugh out loud.

“That has a nice ring to it. I like it.” He draped an arm around Minseok’s shoulders and pulled him close.

Minseok rounded an arm around his waist, and Jongin had never felt more at home.

The next bus was approaching, making its presence known with its headlights.

“Do you want to come over? My place is nearby.” Minseok asked, looking up at Jongin.

Jongin sent him a slanted look. “Where is this boldness coming from? But get with the times, hyung—we should be standing outside your place before you lure me in with ramyun or chicken. I won’t say no to both, just so you know.”

Minseok laughed. “We can have both, but I was thinking more of just talking.”

“We could really use that talk,” Jongin agreed. “I want to know when you started liking me, what you like about me, and what can I do to make you like me more.”

“Who’s the bold one now?” Minseok clucked his tongue, though laughter dripped from his words.

Jongin’s mouth bowed into a puckish smile as he pulled Minseok closer.

 

 

☆彡

 

 

 **Minseok ♡♡♡**  
4:08 PM  
_I made it back safely from the latest emergency._  
_But there’s still so much to do back in the station._  
_I’m beat._  
_Dinner later?_

“And here I thought you couldn’t possibly get any grosser.”

Jongin typed and sent a reply; lifted an eyebrow at Sehun’s comment.

“You’re really hell-bent in proving me wrong.” Sehun sighed in the most dramatic fashion he could muster.

Heat rose in his cheeks but Jongin didn’t deny Sehun’s words. “Oh, come on; as if you weren’t this gross during your first few months with Taemin. I swear your phone had become an extra appendage with how much time you spent glued to it when you know Taemin’s like me.”

“I don’t want to hear that from someone who makes sickly sweet heart eyes at his phone every five seconds.”

Jongin rolled his eyes and didn’t deign him with a response. He couldn’t help what he looked like, and he didn’t care. Why contain his feelings when there was no reason to anymore?

Jongin still wasn’t a phone person, but he was gradually learning to be more mindful of where he placed it so he wouldn’t miss Minseok’s texts. The photos in his gallery could share the blame, as well. A recently-created album showcased Jongin’s grand lack of skill in taking couple photos, but he didn’t delete them for their sentimental value.

Minseok was relatively more knowledgeable in terms of angles, lighting, and filters, so he let him take photos for them. One of his favorite shots ended up as his lock screen wallpaper: Jongin standing behind Minseok as he clung to him in a back hug, chin hooked on his shoulder. They looked into the camera wearing identical smiles.

Nothing compared to his most favorite photo he used as the home screen wallpaper: Jongin giving in to his cheekiness and kissing a surprised Minseok on the cheek at the last second.

Jongin couldn’t stop locking and unlocking his phone after switching wallpapers, though he felt bad for replacing Monggu and Rahee’s pictures. Just a bit, anyway.

Sehun watched people pass by from their stools inside Remicone. “I never saw things ending well between and for you, but I’m glad you proved me wrong. Congrats, man. You’re legit boyfriends now. Pretty soon you’ll be moving in together or buying a new apartment for the next chapter of your lives. Better yet, I volunteer to work on the building plan of your future house.”

“We’re not in that stage of the relationship to be talking about the types of curtains we should hang in the living room.”

“ _Yet,_ ” Sehun said. “You might not be at that stage _yet_ , but pretty soon you’ll be dreaming of a two-storey house with a sprawling lawn, two kids, and three dogs.”

Jongin wrinkled his nose and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Stop projecting what you want for yourself and Taemin.”

“What’s there to project when I’ve already prepared for it? What do you think this ring on my finger is for—decoration?”

Jongin’s gaze flitted to Sehun’s hands. A platinum band fit snug around Sehun’s ring finger, catching the light from the fluorescent bulbs overhead.

“What the fuck—no way!” Jongin took Sehun’s hand, inspecting the ring from various angles. “Congrats! Is this why you wanted to catch up today—to flaunt your ring?”

“No; what do you take me for? I still want to know what’s been going on in your life; but I won’t let the opportunity to show off slip, either.”

“So how did it happen? Did Taemin get on one knee while you stood there blushing?”

They shared a moment of laughter before Sehun replied, “The proposal was… incredibly Taemin-like. He lost the ring but wouldn’t tell me what he was looking for and turned the apartment upside down. I found it in the hamper at the same time Taemin walked into the laundry room. I already knew what the ring meant, so I wore it myself.”

“You did _not_!” Jongin exploded into a new round of laughter.

“If you thought I should’ve played dumb and asked what the ring is or who it’s for, then you sorely underestimate me.” The smugness faded as Sehun added, with undisguised fondness, “Really, I’d have said yes with or without a ring and the cheesy proposal.”

“We should get together to celebrate your engagement on Taemin’s return. No, before you say I’m going to third wheel, I’m taking Minseok-hyung with me.”

“Taemin’s taking too long in Los Angeles,” Sehun said, a barely-concealed sigh hidden in his words. “Why do dance workshops take so long?”

“And you say I’m the gross one,” Jongin quipped with a short laugh.

They spent the remainder of their afternoon enjoying Thunder Bombs and Chocokcoks and chatting about work and everything else in between. They parted with a promise of introducing Minseok’s friends on the next available day.

Jongin shoved his hands into his pockets as he strode down the streets filled with people hurrying about to their destinations. He used the extra time at hand to head to the station and surprise Minseok.

Several firefighters in casual clothing were leaving the station when he arrived. Jongin hovered by the garage bay, but not for long: Kyungsoo emerged from the space between two fire engines carrying a windshield washer and a pail.

“Oh, Jongin, you came? The captain’s shift is almost over. He’ll be out in a moment. Would you like to wait for him inside?”

“It’s okay, hyung; I’ll just wait here,” Jongin said.

The door of the parked ambulance next to the fire truck opened, and out came Baekhyun carrying a first aid kit. He stopped at the sight of Jongin and Kyungsoo, face breaking out into a smile as they exchanged greetings.

“Can’t wait to see the captain that you came all the way here?” Baekhyun shot Jongin a teasing look.

Spending a considerable amount of time with Minseok’s friends taught Jongin how to handle their teasing better now. “Hyung, when you have someone, I’m sure you’ll be like this, too.”

“ _If_ he can finally man up and ask that space cadet of an EMT out, that is,” Kyungsoo said, giving Baekhyun a withering look.

“I’m just looking for the right time, okay? Whenever I’m about to pop the question, we always get emergency calls. I hope to experience the same honeymoon bliss the captain does soon.” Baekhyun wrapped his arms around himself and shook his shoulders, sighing in pleasure.

“Fellow Kim Jong!” Jongdae greeted with an energetic wave, walking out of the station’s main doors. “Captain’s coming, he’s already changing.”

Minseok appeared not even five seconds after Jongdae said that, dressed casually with a messenger bag slung across his body.

“Have you been waiting long?” Minseok asked, sidling up to Jongin’s side right away.

“If I said yes, how will you make it up to me?” Jongin asked, a corner of his mouth lifting into a smirk.

Minseok’s mouth twisted into a playful line. “Hmm… Will paying for dinner make you forgive me? You’re pouting—is that a no? We can get strawberry shortcake later? You’re pouting some more—still no?”

The three spectators’ muffled snickers could be heard.

Minseok sighed loudly, dramatically. He laced his fingers through Jongin’s, swinging their joined hands together in his mission to cajole and placate. “Won’t my baby tell me how I can make it up to him?”

Baekhyun and Jongdae erupted into violent reactions in the form of thunderous protests, hands doing clawing motions.

Kyungsoo’s face was a cross between a grimace and a wide grin, eyes glimmering with morbid amusement.

Jongin’s cheeks heated up as he dissolved into helpless laughter. Minseok’s victorious smirk wasn’t helping.

“Captain, you’re so cheesy! How could you say those things with such a straight face?” Baekhyun exclaimed, enjoying the newfound discovery. “I bet Jongin’s innards are cringing from the cheesiness.”

“Captain can be plenty cute, but good to know he’s extra gross with the boyfriend,” Jongdae joked. “My skin is still crawling from the things he said.”

Minseok’s lips twitched into a smile, despite the fake annoyed look he directed at them. “Don’t you have better things to do than criticize me for my cheesiness? Get back to your shifts—you have HAZMAT cases waiting to be reviewed.” His tone was light, but a clear order rang behind his words.

Not waiting for a response, Minseok half-tugged, half-led Jongin away from the station. “Let’s go?”

Jongin nodded. He bowed to the others. “See you next time.”

“Look at our lovebirds in their perpetual honeymoon state—aren’t they just so sweet?” Baekhyun continued teasing from behind them, raising his voice on purpose. “Even from the back you can tell they’re so in love!”

The rest of Baekhyun’s teasing tapered off the further they walked. Only when they’d sat inside the bus did Minseok sag in his seat and allowed a short, entertained laugh to escape him.

“Those rascals, I swear. They might be the noisiest in the unit, but they do their jobs when duty calls, so I can’t really complain.”

“They’re a funny bunch, but they’re good for you,” Jongin said. “They remind you not to work too hard.”

“That they do,” Minseok agreed.

“You weren’t joking when you said you’d pay for dinner, right?” Jongin asked, breaking the minutes of silence that passed between them.

“Yeah. Would you rather split? I don’t mind either or,” Minseok answered, running a hand over Jongin’s forehead and pushing back his hair. “By the way, are you free two weeks from now? My family wants to meet you.”

“I’d love to meet your family. Should I start worrying on how to impress them?”

“They’ll love you, I’m already sure of it. Just flash them that gorgeous smile of yours.”

Jongin remembered something he had always wanted to ask. “You know, you never told me why you liked me. Is it because…?”

“Your smile?” Minseok finished the rest of his question. “The more I saw your smile, the harder it was to keep you off my mind.”

Their gazes locked, the atmosphere between them loaded with tension. The slightest tilt of Minseok’s head was like an invitation for Jongin to draw close, closer, eyes dropping to his lips for a split second before decreasing the distance—

“ _Ahem._ ”

—but an old lady two seats in front of them was giving the stink eye, effectively ruining the moment.

Jongin pulled away and shared soundless laughter with Minseok.

When Grumpy Grandma wasn’t looking anymore, Minseok leaned close and whispered, “By the time we visit my family, the cosmos would’ve already bloomed in Guri Hangang Park. Do you want to go see? You seem to like flowers a lot, so you might like it.”

Jongin nodded right away. “I want to. The park must look beautiful covered in pink at the time.”

“Great.” Minseok’s eyes turned into half-moons as he smiled.

Jongin’s initial urge to kiss him returned with a vengeance. So he dared close the distance once more, slowly, slowly—

“ _Ahem, ahem_.”

Grumpy Grandma was looking their way again, mouth downturned in stern disapproval.

Jongin schooled his face into nonchalance. Peripheral vision told him Minseok found it amusing.

It took an entire minute before Grumpy Grandma focused on the new passengers.

Determined to have his kiss, Jongin counted to three and turned his head.

Minseok’s lips met his halfway, setting off innumerable sparks.

“ _Ahem, ahem, ahem_.”

Grumpy Grandma was now full-out glaring at their blasphemous public behavior. She shook her head and grumbled, loud enough for them to hear, “Couples these days—where are their sense of propriety?”

They escaped her judgmental stare when they alighted at their stop and released the fits of laughter they’d been holding in.

“Come on; let’s go get your dinner, boyfriend,” Minseok said, tugging him toward the line of shops.

“And my strawberry shortcake.”

“And your strawberry shortcake,” Minseok repeated in affirmation, laughing.

They might’ve done things out of order unlike other relationships, but everything had been worth the pining, the pain, the doubts and the insecurities. Now, Jongin had no reason to pretend it was for practice if he pressed into Minseok’s side while bickering about which shop sold the best _dak galbi_. Now, Jongin had no reason to pretend it was honing their skinship skills if he lifted their joined hands to press a light kiss to each of Minseok’s knuckles.

Now, Jongin could call Minseok his boyfriend with pride and joy if anyone asked.

“Hey, hyung.”

Minseok hummed and looked away from the menu, blinking inquiring eyes at him.

“I like you.” The words rolled off his tongue with ease. Jongin would never tire of saying them again and again. “I really, really like you.”

No matter how deep their adoration ran for each other, they couldn’t bring themselves to say the most important word, not yet. But they were okay with that. They’d take their time and enjoy the journey of getting there.

Minseok’s smile was dazzling as it was heart-stopping. He leaned forward, elbows on the table, folded hands under his chin.

“Well, guess what? I really, really like you, too.”

 

 

**fin.**

**Author's Note:**

> Most locations mentioned throughout the fic are real. I did my best to make Jongin and Minseok's jobs as realistic as possible, but creative liberties have been taken to fit fic purposes. Any and all inaccuracies you may encounter are mine.


End file.
